


Don't Bite the Hand that Feeds You

by lildouglas



Category: overwatch
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Junkrat Gets a Bath, Sickfic, Team as Family, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9169576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildouglas/pseuds/lildouglas
Summary: "What do you suppose would happen if you bit the hand that feeds you? Would it stop? Would it strike you? Would it completely abscond?""Or," a pause, "Would it stay held to you, anyways?"In which, biting is an underestimate, and Junkrat done goofed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! This is my first story on here, but definitely not my first story ever. This is a loose story, so it may or may not end up very lengthy. There is someone who dies, and I am an angsty teen so watch out! I hope you enjoy :)

There is no telling how many days Junkrat has spent like this, trapped, beaten, and tortured with no sign of hope. It feels like it’s been an eternity, but he’s holding out for Roadhog, who he knows will come and save him. Eventually. Junkrat just doesn’t know what is taking him so long.

 

Junkrat is strong, more than capable of withstanding many forms of torture. Despite this, he’s gradually being broken down by his captors easily. He was dirty to begin with, but now he was covered in blood stains and scabs. There is a collar around his neck, chained to the bars of his cage. 

 

A damsel in distress up in her tower had it better than Jamie did. He was stuck in a cramped cage, rarely ever being fed. Not that he ever got that much food before he was kidnapped. Still, this food was always cold and gross, usually scraps of what looked like pig food. He knows for certain he was brought rat food, which, spoiler, was not cheese. He wished it was. 

 

He’s sulking in the silence when he hears gunfire. Junkrat scrambles, crawling as far as the chain will allow him. He waits to hear Roadhog’s heavy footsteps, or the sound of his scrap gun, or even the manical laugh he gave sometimes. 

 

The door bursts open. It’s not Mako. 

 

Instead, it’s a girl in a labcoat, rushing in. She hurries over to Junkrat, and he scowls at her in disgust. “Keep your mouth shut,” she ordered, opening the cage. Junkrat doesn’t plan to follow her orders, but he has no choice from the rag that’s shoved into his mouth. The scientist grabs ahold of the chain, pulling him out of there. 

 

She pulls out a syringe, injecting it into his neck. Junkrat flinches, feeling it break through his skin. It’s not pleasant. 

 

Junkrat is being dragged, using all his strength to bury himself into the ground. The girl slaps him hard, snarling. “Unless you want to get killed, cooperate. I’m not dying by some Overwatch scum.”  
Overwatch. Junkrat knew them. He’s never met them, but he’d have to be living under a rock to not know who they are. Stuck up heroes, a shady operation. 

 

She starts pulling at him again, getting closer to the door. Then, there’s an explosion. She hisses at screaming. She rushes out there, leaving Junkrat on the floor, tucked behind some boxes to go help her teammates. She doesn’t come back. 

 

The gunfire ceased after a while. There were no more screams, and everything fell into complete silence. He perks up at the sudden sound of light footsteps, too quiet to be Mako’s. He ducks down. The footsteps are outside, but he can still pick up on the sounds. For a torture chamber, the walls aren’t very soundproof. 

 

“No survivors,” a gruff voice announced, “It’s a dungeon down here, but I only found one victim. He’s long past saving.” Junkrat knew there had been more victims down here with him. When he was first dragged down here, he had witnessed so many other people in pain. They might have escaped or they were dead. It might just be the latter. 

 

“We can still recover the body. I’m on--” It’s a woman’s voice, but she’s cut off abrutply. 

 

“No need, Mercy,” the gruff voice says, “The corpse is in pieces. Don’t come down here; it’s a gruesome mess.”

 

The voice continues, “They were guarding this place, but I can’t find anything worth hiding. Are you sure there wasn’t anything in the top floor?”

 

“Nothing,” a voice chimed in, a British one, “Hold on a second, love.” There’s scrambling on the communicator. “Winston says there’s a heat signature down there. It’s close too.” 

 

“I’ve checked every room.” Junkrat wants to snort. 

 

He doesn’t want to be found. Junkrat knows Roadhog will save him, and he most definitely does not want to be left in the hands of Overwatch. He spits out the rag in his mouth, coughing. There’s pain aching in his body, as he struggles to move. He failed to realize he had started bleeding. He feels dizzy. He feels the shot from earlier kicking in. 

 

He’s too sucked into the pain that he doesn’t hear the door re-open, he doesn’t notice an old soldier rushing over to him. “Are you okay?” The words fly out of his mouth, but he doesn’t wait for a response. He grunts into the line, “Mercy, get down here. And fast.”

 

Junkrat kicks out his legs, landing into the soldier’s chest. He caught him, unexpecting a hit, and he stepped back. “I’m trying to help,” he struggled to console him, “You don’t have to be scared.”

 

“Get away from me, old fart,” he barks, struggling to get on his feet. He realizes this isn’t a fair match, one poisoned Junkrat against multiple Overwatch heroes. This sucks. 

 

“Where does it hurt?” It’s that woman’s voice again, one weird person in an angel cosplay, it seems. Her hand is reaching out to touch him, but it’s smacked away by his hand. 

 

“Don’t touch me, costume freak,” he grits out. He opens his mouth to yell again, but he’s cut off from a gagging fit. He hunches over, blood splurting out of his mouth. He starts to shake, but he ignores it. He’s had worse than this. 

 

He gets up on his feet, and he is cornered. His vision is blackening, but he won’t submit to it. He’s not going to go down like this. He’ll make sure of it.  
Things aren’t going to work out the way Junkrat wants them to. This becomes obvious when another fit hits him, and he’s losing so much blood. There’s hands on him before he knows it, and he goes limp in the arms. 

 

He’s still awake, but his body won’t move. He’s trapped in arms, and he’s being rushed out. “Roadhog!” he screamed. It’s pointless. His yell lingers in the silence. 

 

He’s getting to see what was outside of his prison room, but he soon finds out he really didn’t want to see any of this. There are so many dead bodies, all of which were workers of this facility he was trapped in. He felt unsettled at the sight of so many torture rooms. 

 

“Who--”

 

“Put me down! Roadhog is coming for me!” he yelled, fighting to get down. He’s covered in white-hot rage, and it’s dry anger, cutting deep in their ears. “He’s going to save me! I don’t need you!” 

 

“We can find your friend after we get you safe,” the healer reassured. “I’m sure he would want the same.” 

 

“You don’t know him like I do,” he said, and it sounded like a promise. “He’d kill all of ya. He’ll rescue me, just like he always does.” 

 

There’s a chuckle from his captor. “We kinda beat him to it, sweetheart,” the cowboy said, shifting his grip on the Australian. 

 

Jack opened his mouth to shoot a retort, but he’s interrupted by the medic. “Before we leave, can I check out that other victim you said you saw?”

 

“Angela…” Soldier 76 trailed off, looking her in the eyes. 

 

“Jack, please,” she insisted, “If it were one of us, wouldn’t you rescue the body?”

 

“There’s nothing to rescue,” he argued, “But, if you’re so insistent, I found him in that room just down the hall.” 

 

Junkrat didn;t mind. The more they twiddled their thumbs, the more time he got to stall. The more time for Roadhog to come and save him. He knew it could be any minute before he got to see him again. 

 

 

There’s a woman waiting by the stairwell. She’s pressed up against the last room, the goriest one on the floor, even bloodier than Junkrat’s torture cell. He doesn’t get a good luck, not with him being pressed into the cowboy’s chest. Soldier 76 and the medic at his side walk towards her. 

 

“McCree, stay back with Junkrat,” Soldier 76 ordered, “Are you sure about this?”

 

“I’m sure,” she replied, “I’ve seen worse before.” She stepped further in, Jack close behind her. Then, there’s a yell. “Jack! He’s not dead!”

 

“What?” he asked. “He’s in pieces!” 

 

McCree tightens his hold. His curiosity getting the best of him, McCree stepped into the doorway. “Winston, we’ve found another survivor,” the British girl announced into her microphone. She took a peek inside, then whispered, “I’m not sure if this one will make it.”

 

Junkrat doesn’t have time for this. Where exactly where is Roadhog? It’s been far too long. Any day now, he could be coming for him. Today, he knew, was the day where he was going to see him again. 

 

He has no other choice than to hope in Roadhog. Or else, he’ll be stuck with Overwatch. He shivers. 

 

“His limbs have all been severed off. Except for an arm,” the healer, Mercy if Junkrat heard correctly. “Sir, can you tell me your name?”

 

“His name?” Junkrat asked, laughing. “That’s what you’re worried about.” His laugh comes out in a choked noice, getting caught in his throat. It’s a humorless laugh. 

 

“If we know his name, we can reach his family.” That’s all the explanation he gets before he hears a scream and some rustling. 

 

Metal crashes into the ground, bodies being slammed to the ground. Soldier 76 yelled for the medic, running to her aid. Junkrat can’t see anything, and he’s struggling to get out of McCree’s grip. 

 

“He’s got a hook! I need backup!” On that cue, Tracer and McCree step in. Tracer moves in front of McCree, signaling for him to protect Junkrat, who really didn’t appreciate the effort. 

 

They victim is provoking a fight, but the heroes are reluctant to fight him. The heroes had a thing about not attacking non-combatants, and this guy was on his deathbed. With his one arm, he had hooked the healer in his grip, and it looked as if he was going to grab her neck. 

 

She was ushered back to McCree and Junkrat, to be protected by Soldier 76 and Tracer. Tracer has her guns out, pointed at the victim. “Mercy, hold this,” McCree said, shoving  
Junkrat to her.

 

“You say that if it’s a cup, not an actual human body,” she sighed, struggling to carry the junker. She can’t keep holding a tight grip on him, and he’s brought down to the ground. He grins, finally gaining a chance to break free. He’s rolling over when he catches sight of the victim.

 

Everything stopped for him. 

 

The sight made Junkrat sick in his stomach, and he felt the blood and vomit in his mouth. He crawled forward, scrambling. Tracer reacted quickly, moving to push him back. Mercy is rushing forward to grab him again, but his scrambling is fast, even in his drugged state. 

 

“Roadhog!” 

 

The heroes stopped. Nobody dared to breath. Except for the two junkers. Junkrat crawled to his side, grabbing ahold of Roadhog. “Mako, Mako,” he chanted. He sounded like a broken record, too shattered to process anything else at the moment. 

 

“Shut up,” he growled, “Get out of here. Not safe.” 

 

“I don’t care!” Junkrat screamed, his voice cracking. “I don’t care; I just want to be with you. Me and you, Mako, against the world. Just the two of us. How it’s supposed to be? Mako, come on--”

 

“Get out of my sight,” he growled, pushing Junkrat away from him. Junkrat feels tears welling in his eyes, and he feels himself being torn down. “Don’t waste my effort saving your ***. Go!” 

 

“Mako--”

 

“Get him out of here.” 

 

“No, no,” he started, but Junkrat’s ramblings are cut off when hands start pulling him back. He thrashes. “No! No! Mako, don’t leave me alone! He’s all I have! You can’t take him away, please!”

 

“Bye, Jamie.” 

 

Junkrat did not see him die. He had been pulled away by the heroes, evacuated quickly. He was thrown on their ship, shivering with anger. Roadhog was still down there in those chambers. 

 

“We have to go back!” he insisted, growling as the soldier started to chain his wrists. 

 

“Now, Winston,” he said. 

 

“Understood.” With that, missiles are fired. The entire building goes off in an explosion. Junkrat wails. 

 

“You… You left him.” Junkrat stills, sinking down to his knees. Soldier backs away with the handcuffs still in his hands. Mercy desperately wants to treat his wounds and comfort him, but she’s being held back by Tracer. “You left him to die!”

 

“If we had stayed any longer, reinforcements would have arrived,” Winston reasoned. 

 

Junkrat doesn’t say anything. He grits his teeth together, moving to do God-knows-what when he recoils in pain. He fumes, growling when Mercy stepped closer. 

 

“Where does it hurt?” Mercy’s voice is gentle and low, an attempt at soothing the patient. It seems to be working. 

 

He looks up at her. “You should have saved Roadhog.” 

 

“Where does it hurt?” she repeated. 

 

He looks away. 

 

“What is your name?” Tracer asked. 

 

Junkrat is unresponsive.

 

“I am Mercy, or Angela. This is Tracer, over there is Winston and Soldier 76, and McCree is topside right now, currently getting some supplies.”

 

Jack Morrison started, “I have some questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Jack, can this wait until later?” Mercy pleaded. “He seems to be in shock.” 

 

“Buzz off,” he snapped, “Roadhog’s dead.” He doesn’t say anything else. There are no tears. He glares off into empty space, gritting his teeth. “Mako is dead.” 

 

Silence follows. No one dares to speak. McCree comes down the stairs later, some boxes in hand. 

 

It’s a long way back home, and everyone’s had a long day. Winston and Tracer are in their seats at the front of the ship, running on auto-pilot. Their voices are low, and they conversation is light. Soldier is cleaning out his gun. Mercy is plumped down a few feet from Junkrat, and she’s going through her supplies. 

 

Junkrat is pressed against the window, his eyelids heavy. He looks small, defeated. He’s mumbling something, voice too broken to be heard. McCree comes close. “I’ll trade you,” he offers. “A cookie for a name.” 

 

He considers. “‘S Junkrat.” 

 

McCree nods, giving a soft smile. He hands him the cookie. “Get some rest, Junkrat.” 

 

“How could I?” he whispered. “Mako left me. He only did protect me, even in his last moments. That jerk! More of, I hate those stupid jerks who captured us in the first place! I’ll kill them! I’ll do what they did to us. Those b***ards,” he cursed.

 

“We could use some of that fighting spirit,” Jack says from his seat. “You can join us, if you’d like.”

 

“Join what? Your little team of heroes?” 

 

“Yeah. Isn’t that what you want to do? Take down the ones that hurt you?” 

 

It’s quiet for a moment. “I’ll do it,” he announced, voice strong. “For Mako.”


	2. Chapter 2 - Patience is a Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat makes some friends, makes some enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really shouldn't be posting this so quickly, but I get so excited. Writing these are so much fun!!! I really do have to hold back, so I can do like a chapter a day. Whoops, I have no self control. 
> 
> pls enjoy

Junkrat was not patient by any means. When he accepted the invitation, a spark lit inside of him. For a moment, he forgot the sadness he felt, and he was filled with his motive for revenge. Those that ever had hurt him, Roadhog had tortured them and ended their lives in pain for that was his job as his bodyguard. It’s time for Junkrat to return the favor. 

Overwatch had different plans. 

When the ship landed and the doors opened, Junkrat was dragged into the base. There were workers wondering around, most of them staying clear of his path. 

“Sir, I need you to sign--” One of the many passing employees rolled up to them. Quite literally, rolling up to them. On rollerblades. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding, like a lot.”

“You told me we bandaged the last of your wounds,” Jack said, squinting. “Lucio, can you help to his wounds? Mercy had to leave, and this idiot told us he was done.” He smacked Junkrat upside in the head. “Can you do it in my office? I need to finish a report on him, too.”

“No problem, old man,” he chirped. “Lead the way.”

Junkrat, on the other hand, wasn’t as enthusiastic. “We don’t have time for this. We need to attack now before they get the chance to rebuild, attack them while they’re weak.”

“No, especially not when you’re injured. You aren’t authorized to fight with us until your form is completed, either,” Jack said. 

“Does that mean he’s a new member? Awesome! Hey, man, I’m Lucio! Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I don’t care,” he replied. “I’m not going to waste my time making friends while Roadhog--” he paused, his voice choking up on his name, “His body is down there. He’s all alone.” 

“Play nice,” Jack scolded. “This is Junkrat.” 

“Can we please just hurry up and get on with this?” Junkrat whined. “This is ridiculous.”

And that’s how Junkrat ended up on the floor of Jack’s office, one of the few quiet places in the entire facility. Jack was seated at his desk, filling out some forms while Lucio tried his best not to anger the junker. 

“Real name?” Lucio asked. Junkrat was biting down his lip as Lucio pressed a shot into his arm. Jack’s eyes widened, remembering how much Junkrat thrashed when Mercy had tried to give him something like that. 

“Jamison Fawkes,” Jack said. “You have quite a criminal record. You’re wanted in several countries. This is why we need forms on new members.” 

“Creep,” Junkrat mumbled, “Stay out of my business.”

“I’m sure he’ll just stick to what he needs,” Lucio reassured, “Jack keeps stuff private, so you don’t have to worry about people finding stuff out.”

Junkrat doesn’t say anything, just stills as Lucio places a band aid over the syringe wound. 

“There! All done,” he said. “How do you feel?”

Junkrat raised a brow. “I have two mechanical limbs, I’m covered in cuts and bruises, and God knows what else they did to me. I feel rainbows and sunshine.”

Lucio smiles wryly. “Not what I meant. How do you feel? Emotions wise, and all.” 

“I feel screwed,” he replied. Lucio laid a hand on his shoulder. Junkrat flinched, and Lucio retracted his hand. 

“Back to my form,” Jack said abruptly. “Most of this stuff is online, so I just want to confirm.”

“Go ahead,” he said, getting comfortable in his seat. Lucio perked up, curious. 

“Jamison Fawkes, age 25, 6’6? No way you’re that tall.”

“I slouch.”

Soldier 76 looked at him for a moment before continuing, “You’re from Australia where you lived as a junker, with your partner in crime, Mako Rutledge.” His voice went calm, flat at the name, treading carefully. 

Junkrat was just like the bombs he loved so much. He was easy to set off. 

“He was your bodyguard. Says here you two worked together for quite some time.” Junkrat was silent. “Listen, I only need you to confirm a few things, and then we’re done.”

“I bet you two were close,” Lucio said. 

“We were,” he replied. “Is that all?” 

Jack looked down at his papers. “Yes, I just need to know the date of which you were captured. You have a lot of dates mission on here.” 

“That one I can't help you with cause I don't even know,” he replied. “Couldn't have been to long. It feels like it's been ages, but I’m sure it's only been a week or two.”

“When is the last date you remember?” Lucio inquired. 

“March of 2080,” he replied. “Is it April yet? I can't tell; the weather here is different from Australia.” 

They freeze. Jack drops his pen, taking a moment to drag his fingers through his hair. Lucio stills, gritting his teeth. 

”What?” he asked, getting a little unnerved at their reactions. “How long has it been? Why isn't anyone answering me?” 

Lucio opens his mouth, but he finds it hard to speak. “Junkrat,” he inhales sharply, “Today’s date is January 14th of 2081.” 

Junkrat can't breathe. 

He hears something, people saying his name, but it's all white noise. He's drowning in those words, echoing in his mind. It's been too long. He's been away from the world for too long. 

He knew it had felt like eternity, but that's something around a year. He pales, hoping he did his math wrong. It's insane, and it's terrible. Junkrat is quivering. 

“It's okay,” Lucio is chanting, holding Junkrat awkwardly, “Breathe. You're having an anxiety attack. You're fine. You're with me and Jack Morrison in Overwatch. We have you.” 

It goes on for a while. Lucio is saying things to attempt at grounding Junkrat. The pain medicine from earlier kicks in, bringing him down. He's still shaking with a tremor. 

“That's all, Junkrat. We have a room ready for you,” Morrison said, standing up. “I have work to do, but I can have someone take you there.” 

“I can do it,” Lucio said instantly. He grabs ahold of Junkrat and starts off when Jack starts laughing. It's a sound you don't hear often, especially from him. 

“I haven't told you where his room is,” he chuckled. He looked down at a note in his hands. “Oh, well that's strange. I actually don't know what room number it is. Well.” 

“What do you mean?” Lucio asked, blushing from earlier. 

“I got a note, which should have had his room number. Instead, it just says that his room is ready. That's helpful,” he sighed. “Whichever room is down there that's not taken is yours, I suppose.” 

With that, they are pushed out of his office. Jack is a busy man, after all. He's got a lot of work to do, as a Strike Commander of Overwatch. He probably won't see his dormitory until late hours of the night. 

“I wonder who is already down there. I can introduce you to everybody!” Lucio cheered, zooming down the hallway. Junkrat is following close behind, far less enthusiastic. “Most of the heroes are doing there own things, maybe some are on a mission. It's almost dinner time, though, so I think some may already be heading down to the dining hall.” 

They arrive at the dormitories, and it was dead silent. There walked through an arch, leading to a gigantic room made up of smaller rooms. There were rooms going down in a line, a curved line as the room was shaped in a circle. Rooms were stacked, and it looked like it went about three stories up. 

“It looks like there's a bunch of us, but not really. Some of these rooms are communal ones, some shared. Everyone gets a bedroom, a bathroom, and a separate room that they can use to whatever they want. Even though we get a bathroom, we have to go down the hall for the showers,” Lucio explained. Junkrat squinted at “showers”. 

“It's quiet,” he observed, looking around. And it was. For about two seconds. 

“You insolent pig!” a voice yelled. Next thing they knew, a body was launched from one of the upper floors. 

The body landed at their feet, not moving. Junkrat paled. 

“Well, would you look at that!” Lucio exclaimed. “D.va, meet Junkrat. Junkrat, meet D.va.” 

“Hey! I'll talk later!” she grinned, flashing a toothy smile before running off. Behind her, someone else dropped down. 

“Hana, get back here!” The girl jumps off the ground, flying into the air. 

“You'll never take me alive!” There's a maniacal laughter that follows that statement, but the conversation ends with a loud crash. 

Lucio looks to Junkrat. “That's Pharah. I'm sure you'll get to meet her later.” Lucio slaps himself in the face. “Everyone here is insane.” 

“I'll fit right in, in that case,” Junkrat smirked. “Hey, hold on a second. Are all of the heroes living over here?” 

“Yup,” he replied. “Some have their own homes far from here, but most prefer to hang around here. When they get home from missions, they don't really have time go home, especially if there’s is across the globe.” 

Junkrat nodded. They walked forward, looking at all the rooms. The doors all had little name plates on them, some with a single name, some with a purpose, some with multiple names. They kept going around until they reached a blank one. 

“I guess this is it,” Lucio said, fishing keys out of his pocket. “If these work, that is.” Bingo. The door opened right away. They stepped inside. 

The room is strange to Junkrat. He's never had something like this before. It's neat and tidy, a couple of lamps places around. There's a tiny doorway and then immediately the bedroom. His bed is huge, and Junkrat charges forward to jump on it. “It's so soft!” he exclaims, rolling around. 

Lucio laughs. “You act as if you've never seen a bed…” He trailed off, realizing his mistake. 

“Yeah, never really had a chance to really have one. Always on the run, yanno?” 

It's all knew to him. A room he could call his own. 

He could get used to this. 

 

“Do you have any ideas for what you want your new room to be?” Lucio asked. 

“I dunno. Maybe a room where I can blow up stuff,” he replied, stirring. He could fall asleep right now, but the rumbling in his stomach made him perk awake. He had hoped Lucio hadn’t heard it, but by the smirk on his face he knew he had. 

“I’m going down to the cafeteria. Would you care to join me?” Lucio asked, smile fading. “I know you don’t want to, but I’d like to introduce you to some more people.” 

He doesn’t have a strong enough sense of control. He lets himself be led into the cafeteria. 

There weren’t many heroes in there. In fact, it was almost empty. Lucio walked over to a lady who was standing behind a table, and he followed behind like a duckling around its mother. 

“What’s on the menu for tonight, Zarya?” Lucio asked. He looked down at the large bowls, and made a strange face Junkrat could not understand. 

“Boiled chicken!” she replied. “Good for bones.” Lucio shivered. Zarya poured some on his tray, and he stepped aside so Junkrat could step up and get some. Junkrat placed down his plate, but Zarya only stared back at him. He looked to Lucio for help, but Lucio just shot him a confused look back. Then, Zarya climbed up on the table and jumped over the other side. “You skeleton!” 

Junkrat’s eyes widened in a slight panic as the Russian picked him up and threw him up in the air. “Put me down! What the--” 

“You weigh as much as a baby,” she said as if it was a perfectly acceptable answer as to why she threw Junkrat ten feet in the air. “Extra boiled chicken for you.” 

“Please, don’t smash my new recruit into the ceiling.” They turn around to see Jack standing there with an unamused look on his face. 

“New recruit?” Zarya repeated. “This is my new comrade I’ve been hearing about?” She dumps twice as much boiled chicken from before unto his plate. “Not a healthy weight for battlefield.” 

“I second that!” Mercy interrupts, walking into the conversation. “Speaking of, you should come by the infirmary, and I can help with that.” 

Junkrat paled. “No thanks.” 

Mercy looked over to what Zarya was serving and looked as if she had seen a ghost. “Zarya, boiled chicken again? This is not at all a well-balanced diet! Where’s the vegetables? Where’s--”

Junkrat started to tune out. Lucio backed away slowly, sneaking out of the conversation. He plumped down in his seat, digging into his food. Junkrat took a seat across from him. He picked up his fork, but hesitated to take a bite. As hungry as he was, he still feared the chicken may contain poison. The last food he had eaten in the prison made him puke up his lungs. He wasn’t looking forward to this. 

He took a deep breath. If Lucio liked it, he’d be sure it’d be okay to eat. He looked up from his food at Lucio, who had a sour look on his face as he bit into it. He really wasn’t looking forward to this. 

Even so, he dug his fork into the chicken and brought it up to his lips. He closed his eyes, shoving it in his mouth and preparing for the worst. 

It… It wasn’t terrible. 

It was warm. The chicken, from what he could tell, had been cooked to taste good, not just for hunger. Today, he’s been doing a lot of his firsts. First real home, first home cooked meal… 

If only Roadhog was her, life would be perfect. He, as his bodyguard, would do his best to score food for the two of them, but wanted criminals can’t simply walk into a grocery story. That kind of thing was difficult for them. 

“Don’t worry. I got you, fam.” There’s a hand peeking out from under the table with a bag of doritos in its clutches. Junkrat thought to question it, but just rolled his eyes instead. 

“Hana.” Junkrat expected him to tell her off for being rude by not eating her cooking or something like that. “You’re a true friend.” 

“You want some?” The hand grabbed unto the table, pulling herself out from the floor. A girl rose, falling back into a seat beside Lucio. “Oh, you’re the dude from earlier. Smashmouse, right?” 

“Junkrat,” he corrected, cringing at the nickname. Lucio choked. Whether it was on the chicken or on the nickname, Junkrat didn’t know. He started to laugh a little too until arms came out of nowhere and wrapped around Lucio, ripping him out of his seat. 

“Don’t worry! Mommy’s got you!” It’s an older woman performing CPR on him. She pushes hard, a piece of chicken flying out of his mouth. 

“Ana, put me down,” he rasped out. She did, dropping him down in the seat. “Thank you.” 

“Children, be careful,” she ordered. “You must be Smashmouse.” 

“You have to be kidding me. Please, tell me she’s joking,” Junkrat pleaded, slamming his head down into the table. “I hate everything.” He stood up to leave, and it wasn’t because of his name being messed up. He really was getting exhausted with all these new people. Plus, Roadhog did just die yesterday. 

He kind of felt guilty of how distracted he’d been. He was a mess for that day, and now he’s here laughing along with heroes that he’s never talked to before now. The guilt hurt. 

“Leaving already?” Hana asked, disappointed. 

Junkrat was going to reply. He really was until he found himself planted in a hard, cold wall. He recoiled, holding his nose. His eyes fluttered open to face the obstacle, but he was met with something he’d never thought to see here. 

In a flash, he pushed down the creature to the ground, holding its head to the floor. There was movement instantly, people going to move him off. “How did you get in here?” he exclaimed. 

“Junkrat, calm down! He’s on our side.” There’s a pang in his chest, a familiar feeling of betrayal. 

“An omnic on our side?” he questioned, glaring. “I refuse to believe it.” 

The omnic kept his mouth shut, not wanting to provoke conflict. He didn’t seem scared. That made Junkrat even more angry. 

He remembered how emotionless they were when they killed, when they took over things that weren’t rightfully there’s. These words coming from a thief, as well. 

“He won’t hurt you,” Lucio promised. “Zenyatta’s good.”

“Hands off my master!” Junkrat is too slow to react, and a foot is pressed into the side of his face. He’s sent flying across the room. “Are you okay?”

“Genji, there is no use for violence,” he commanded, levitating off of the ground. Junkrat got up quickly, looking over to his attacker. 

Junkrat looked over to Lucio, as a told you so of “he won’t hurt you”. Lucio shrugged. Junkrat did attack first, after all. Plus, Zenyatta wasn’t even the one to attack. 

“I should have warned you ahead of this, but we do have some omnics on our team. All of them are on our side.” Jack turned to Genji and Zenyatta. “I should have warned you sooner, but I got caught up in paperwork. Junkrat grew up in Australia where the omnic war hit dramatically. It’d make sense for him to freak out.”

Genji glared. Zenyatta nodded, not blaming him at all. 

When Junkrat returned to his room, he felt worn out. He had only been a member for a short while, and he’s already made enemies. He sighed, walking to his door. There was a box at the door, a letter attached to it. Junkrat picked it up, pushed his door open, and took a seat in his new bed. 

He tore open the box to pull out a picture frame. It’s an old picture, and Junkrat feels a little creeped out as to where someone had found this picture. It’s a picture of Roadhog and Junkrat robbing a bank. Junkrat is smiling in the photo, piggy back riding on his bodyguard’s back. Roadhog has a mask on, but he still seems happy. 

He rips the envelope open. The letter reads: 

Dear Junkrat, I understand this is a rough time for you. I am excited that you accepted our invitation as a new hero, but I also fear for your well-being. Overwatch does not invite people to join at free will. I saw something in you, and I believe you’ll do greatly. 

Your first mission is tomorrow. Details will be sent via text message. There’s a comm, a phone, and a hero I.D. in the box. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call me. 

-Jack Morrison

“If you were here, Mako, would you have joined?” He rolled over in his bed. He switched the lights off, leaving a lamp on. “Would you have liked it here?”


	3. This Isn't as Easy as he Thought it'd be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat goes on his first mission! 
> 
> also im so sorry ok but like not a lot of overwatch characters so u should have seen this comin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have like 3 different ideas for new fics, and i am getting way ahead of myself but i'm just real diddly darn excited. tho, i don't want to get carried away in other stuff and abandon this. ALSO WHY ARE MY ITALICS NOT WORKING I HATE EVERYTHING

Rain in January makes clothes sticky against skin. Rain in January is not something you want to be stuck outside in, but here Junkrat is, standing uncomfortably in the pouring rain. This isn’t the time of weather he was used to in Australia, and he was positive he didn’t like it.

Rain in January sucks. You know what also sucks? Omnics. Omnics suck. Specifically, Genji Shimada sucks.

To be fair, Junkrat did attack one of his omnic friends, Zenyatta, but this was a different level. This was immature bullying. In fact, Junkrat would much prefer a punch in the face. This was much worse, however. Being locked out in the rain and being too stubborn to message anyone for help. Plus, he’s sure Soldier 76 would not be thrilled if he found out about this. It may also have to due with him not wanting to admit he failed one of the most simplest of missions.

_(Earlier this morning)_

_This wasn’t what Junkrat was expecting. He was expecting, well, he doesn’t even know what exactly, but most definitely not this, whatever this is. He would never admit it, but he was looking forward to fighting the people who took Roadhog’s life, the ones who spent a near year torturing him. Not much was known about them, and he was anxious to find more information. His first mission was supposed to be related to that. Except, that’s not how things turned out. He woke up to find his “mission” was simply “Go make friends”. Outraged, Jamison threw open the doors to his office, startling Tracer, making her drop her tea. Her fast reflexes kicked in and she caught it almost as soon as she dropped it. Soldier 76, however, had a far different reaction. He didn’t even look up from his desk. “Is something the matter?” he asked, and Junkrat swore he could hear amusement in his voice, a slight teasing._

_“What, you really think I was going to send out an injured on the battlefield?”_

_“It doesn’t even hurt!” he complained._

_“I don’t need friends, and you can’t force me to do this.”_

_“Quite the contrary, son,” he interjected. “You have to work as a team. I need you to know them well, gain their trust and vice versa.”_

_“Hold on,” Tracer said. “You ordered him to make friends? That’s nothing you should force. Sorry, Jack, but I’m on his side for this one.”_

_“Lena.” She didn’t dare challenge the tone of his voice. “You’re not going on any missions until you can prove to me that you’re worthy of being on this team. Being on a team has many benefits, but it does cost you to at least try to get to know them.”_

_“Fine! I can make friends easily. I’ll show you.”_

Junkrat really didn’t know where to start. He wasn’t here to make friendship bracelets; he was here for revenge.

If he doesn't get along with them, he won't be sent on a mission. They'll fight the organization with or without Junkrat.

"I really don't want to do this," he mumbled, bringing his knees to his chest. "But, Mako, for you..." He shpved his head down, protecting his face from the rain. 

He really hated water. He really hated being stranded outside. He really hated Genji Shimada. He really hated having Roadhog gone. 

"Junkrat, love, are you okay? You're shivering!" There's a hand grabbing at his arm before he's being ripped off of the ground. "Why was the door locked?" 

 

Junkrat shook his head, sending water droplets off flying in different directions. He doesn't reply, so Tracer just keeps talking. "The rain didn't wash off any of the dirt, I see." It's no secret that Junkrat isn't a clean person. Whenever he walks into a room, a horrible stench rises. "I guess even the rain is so match against you." She smirks, remembering when Mercy had sugar-coated a request for him to shower. 

"I don't like water." His hands squeeze at his hair, water dripping down. He's soaked, and there is no escaping it. 

"I can see that," Tracer observed. "Now, why don't you tell me why you were out there in the first place." 

Junkrat sneezed. "I went to apologize to that Zenyatta fella from yesterday," he replied. "He was out in the courtyard when I found him, and then Genji came out from nowhere and started yelling at me." 

Tracer raised an eyebrow. "He's really not that bad of a guy. You two just got off on the wrong foot is all." 

"Yeah, well, I don't want to be friends with an omnic. This isn't even a real mission; it's just a joke." 

Tracer frowned, thinking hard for a moment. "Aha! I know what will make you feel better!" 

Next thing he knew, Junkrat found himself in a science lab. There was a "do not enter" sign on the door, but neither of them paid it any mind. 

Winston and a girl he didn't recognize were scribbling on a dry erase board, entering in equations that made Junkrat's head spin. Tracer puts a finger on her lips, motioning for Junkrat to be quiet. 

The two scientists seemed hard at work, but a sudden crash made them both whip around to witness Junkrat knocking something off of a table. Mei freezed, no pun intended, letting out a screech. "Don't. Move." 

"Is that one of my pulse bombs?" Tracer asked, looking over his shoulder. 

"I was doing some modifications," Winston replied. "This one is extremely unstable, however. It could explode at any moment." 

Something sparked. And it wasn't Junkrat. Winston ducked down, covering his head as the bomb exploded, destroying a couple of nearby glasses. 

"What did I tell you?" Mei exclaimed. 

Junkrat has had a past with explosives. He's known for blowing up whatever he wants whenever he wants with anything he wants. This, on the other hand, wasn't something he had meant to blow up. This was a honest accident. 

"Get out of my lab."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont like how this turned out at all. also i know it's really short, but it's bc i had not alot stuff planned for this chapter, but i do have a bunch for next time so look forward to that. 
> 
> i must have re written this like 20 times, so i hope it was worth it. seriously tho next chappie is gonna be real good i promise u


	4. The Secrets We Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat's REAL first mission....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry

Junkrat pressed his ear against the door of the cockpit, listening to Jack’s voice. Winston motions for him to take a seat, but he ignored him and pressed closer. “He is a little bit...” he paused, looking for the right word. “Excitable. So, just, be calm.” His voice was pleading. 

Junkrat took that as a cue for him to walk out. After the events with Genji and Mei, Soldier 76 thought it’d be best if he was given a little push. 

Jack didn’t especially want to send him out on a mission so soon, albeit a very easy escort mission. This could probably be done with only one hero, but he called in a full, six hero team. He brought himself, Junkrat, Reaper, Winston, Ana, and Reinhardt. They’re some of the ones who are easy to get along with. 

Junkrat is fidgeting as he stands before the heroes. They stared back at him, a mixture of confusion and wonder. He hadn’t heard all of it, but he knows Jack told them he was an insane arsonist who couldn’t sit still. Today, though, he felt nauseous, a small pain in the back of his head. 

The heroes gave their introductions, smiling kindly at the junker. Reaper, however, just blankly stared. “What are ya lookin’ at ya punk?” Junkrat slurred, his voice breaking off into a cough. 

“Junkrat, please,” Jack begged, cutting him off. “We have arrived.” 

Junkrat wasn’t amused. “It’s raining again?” He glared up at the cloudy sky. 

“Storm’s coming in,” Winston said. “The payload isn’t far from here, so you should get there before the storm hits.” 

They’re sent on their way with that note, Winston staying behind with the ship. As much as he was looking forward to his first mission, he has to say he was a little jealous. He really hates water. 

Reinhardt is next to him when he sneezed, using his shield as an umbrella against the rain. The five of them are crowded in with each other, with the exception of Reaper, who is too much of an Edgelord to get under the “umbrella”. 

“Stop being an idiot, and get under here!” Jack calls over to Reaper. Reaper puts a hand to his ear. It’s hard to tell whether he really did hear Jack over the rain or not. 

“Hold on,” Ana said, silencing him. “Do you hear that?” They all tuned in, but the only thing that could be heard was water splashing against the ground. Next thing they knew, a missile planted into the ground. One missile turned into a rapid fire, and they were scattered. 

Junkrat had been near the edge of his shield, and was thrown off to the left when the missiles hit. Dust filled his sight as he braced himself against a rock. He felt the sharp edges digging into his back, making him even more dizzy than before. 

The dust cleared up after a few moments, washed away in the rain. But when Junkrat looked there was nobody there. There was no sign of the attacker, either. “It’s cold,” he mumbled to himself, taking a cradle position. 

“I didn’t notice,” Reaper said, sarcastically. Junkrat whipped around at the new voice, instantly regretting it. His back ached. He had a good recovery rate, but something was really off with him today. Was it because it’s his first mission? Is this why his heart is beating a hundred times a minute? 

He feels vomit rise in his throat, and he hunches over. “I thought I had smelled a sick dog,” Reaper seethes, sitting beside him. “Jack is oblivious to things like this. Thought at least Ana would notice.” Junkrat perked up, confused. There’s a beeping noise coming from Reaper’s hand, which holds a GPS. He looked down at Junkrat, then back at the GPS. “When did you start gagging so much?” 

Junkrat’s eyebrows furrowed together, but he answered anyways. “It’s been pouring down rain for the past few days. I’ve managed to get myself caught in the cold. More of, how are you not gagging?” 

“Because I didn’t fake a check up with Mercy.” Junkrat silently cursed, knowing he had been caught. “Jack thinks you’re in perfect health because of that stupid stunt. Not so much of a smart idea, huh, punk?”

Junkrat feigned innocence. “I dunno what yer talking about,” Junkrat whistled, avoiding his gaze. 

“Yeah, you do.” Reaper is standing over his shoulder. He holds out his hand for him to take, yanking him off of the ground. Junkrat starts to speak, his voice hoarse. Reaper turns sharply. “Quiet.” Junkrat closed his mouth, burning lasers into the ground. Silence falls over them now: Junkrat too scared to talk, Reaper not being a talkative person. 

They continue on in silence until Junkrat figures it’s okay to talk. He feels as if he’s been quiet for ages, but it’s only been five minutes. “Where are we going?” 

“To find Ana.”

“What about the mission?” 

“You’re supposed to be quiet.” 

“And you’re supposed to be an escort,” he argued, coming up by his side. 

Reaper ignored that. “This could have been avoided,” he growled. “By the way, if Jack finds out, he won’t be happy with you. You’d better run.”

“You’re not going to tell him?” Junkrat asked. He could care less, really, if he found out. Sure, it’d cause some trouble, okay, maybe a lot of trouble, but Junkrat would’ve been able to handle it. Right? … He may care if he finds out. Just a little, though. 

“That depends,” Reaper drawled out, smirking under his mask (not that Junkrat could see it). “As much as I love to get under his skin, I won’t say anything unless ‘this’ gets worse.” Emphasis on the ‘this’, gesturing at his body. “That really was stupid, by the way.”

“Yeah, you’ve only said that like four times now.” Junkrat is grumbling, staring down at his feet. In front of him, Reaper stopped abruptly, leading for Jamison to crash into his back. “Mate, what the bloody--”

Purple lightning streams down, setting a nearby tree on fire. On instinct, Reaper throws Junkrat under a ledge before taking refuge there himself. Reaper is staring down at his GPS again. “She’s not far from here.” 

“Who?” Junkrat asked. 

“Ana,” he replied. “We were talking about her just a second ago.”

“We were?” he asked, voice high pitched. 

“We were,” he confirmed. He set the GPS down on the ground, crouched down on his legs. He waves a hand in front of his face. Junkrat stick his tongue out to lick the hand. Disgusted, Reaper wipes his hand on the rock before getting to his feet. He peeked out at the storm, then back at the Junker who was scratching the wall. 

“ANA!!” He’s screaming at the top of his lungs. With his communicator not working, this was made ten times more difficult than it needed to be. He waited for a response, but none came. He let a little more time pass, for the storm to die down, before cupping his hands to scream again. This time, there’s a voice accompanying him, but it comes out in a broken wail. 

“Who’s Ana?” 

Reaper has to resist slapping himself in the face. 

God must have had mercy on him at this moment because Reinhardt is standing before him with Ana tucked under his shield. Ana is cautious, kneeling down next to Junkrat. “You must be Arriba,” he giggled, snorting. Ana doesn’t react, simply taking a medikit out. She’s poking at him, thoroughly investigating his neck, all open skin. His head is burning hot against her hand. “What’re ya doin’?” 

“Arriba is checking you for injuries,” she says, talking about herself in the third person. She wants to cringe at the name. She really does. “Stay still.”

“I got none of those,” he said, waving a hand. “No new ones, anyways. Hey, hey, can you turn on the fan, though? It’s hot.” There’s a thermometer being pushed under his tongue, and he doesn’t fight it. “Hotter than ‘Straylia weather.” 

“You were complaining about the cold not too long ago,” Reaper points out, testing his memory. The thermometer beeps, and Ana wastes no time pulling it out. Her reaction hides no worry. 

“104 degrees,” she announced. “When did he start showing symptoms? His appointment with Mercy wasn’t too long ago, and he was fine then.” 

“He forged it.” That’s all he needs to say for Ana to understand. “He’s reeked of vomit since this morning. He’s been puking since we got separated.” 

Reinhardt stepped back into the room, fiddling with his comm. A low buzzing sound emitted from the device. “Mako, let’s go,” he whined, his eyes shutting. He curled into himself. “It’s too hot here. I wanna see those space explosions again.”

The two stilled as Ana was forced to ignore his delirious comments, focused on doing whatever she can to get the fever down. “What were those things called, again?” he asked, flipping over on his side. Ana pushed him back down. “I’m sorry… Are you mad at me? ‘Mako, I--”

“No one is mad,” Ana reassured, feeling uneasy. 

Junkrat is coughing; Ana readjusts him, quickly turning him on his stomach. If someone pukes while laying on their back, they can choke and die from their own vomit. “Sp-pace explosions sure are pretty.” 

Ana hummed, not knowing what he was going on about. She wants to tell him to be quiet, but she can’t bring herself to. Whatever to keep him distracted from the pain, she guesses. “We oughta get one. Keep it as a pet.” 

“An explosion as a pet?” Reinhardt questions. Ana shoots him a look. 

“No,” he says as if what Reinhardt was saying was ridiculous, as if what Junkrat is saying makes any sense at all. “You said it yourself. Type of fish.” 

Ana mumbled something when she comes across a wound on his leg, looking as if it might get infected. She was surprised no one had noticed before. The bruise was leaking strange fluids. Could she even call this a bruise? 

His knee was purple with cuts sliced in crosses over and over again in the same spot. The cuts went around to the back of his leg. 

“Stars.” Reinhardt looked up at Reaper as he says this. 

“That’s the word. Stars.” Junkrat tries the word out on his tongue, letting it roll off. 

“This is not looking good,” Ana said grimly. “Winston needs to get her instantly. There’s nothing I can do with the supplies I have.” 

Junkrat shifts suddenly, drawing in a sharp breath. “I think I’m seein’ some right now,” he mumbles as his eyes close again. Ana is slapping his face lightly. 

“No, no,” she said. “Don’t fall asleep. Can you stay awake for me?” Junkrat makes an unrecognizable sound. 

Reaper was ready to go find Winston, who he had no doubt had started searching for them when the storm hit. As soon as he started to take off, a loud screech came from Reinhardt’s comm. He scrambled to get ahold of it. “Winston? Jack?” He’s desperate. 

“We are here,” Jack says into the headset. “The storm should be passing very soon. Winston and I will land in the clearing by the river near you once it passes. Do you see it?” 

Reinhardt glances out the opening. “Yes, but you must hurry,” he urged. “Junkrat has been injured badly. A wound re-opened on his leg, and… lots of blood.” 

“Screw that,” Jack mumbled. “Winston, take off. Now.” 

Junkrat is twisting again, curling up tighter than ever. “It hurts.”

“You’ll be okay. Help is coming.” 

“Help better hurry up,” Reaper muttered, impatient. 

“You’re supposed to tell me to stop bein’ a baby,” Junkrat mumbled, choking out a laugh. “You’re actin’ funny, Mako.” 

There’s a loud sound coming from outside, and it’s their sign that Winston has landed. Reinhardt swoops him up carefully, taking off in a sprint towards the ship. The doors close off behind them, autopilot taking off back to base. 

“Mercy didn’t say anything about this on her report,” Jack said. Nobody cared to correct him at the moment. 

“We have to cut it off.” 

“What?” Jack exclaimed. “Really, how did this go unnoticed? Junkrat, what were you thinking…?”

“Stars!” he chirped. He lazily smiled. 

“Does it hurt?” Ana asked. For someone who is about to get amputated, he seems awful chipper. No reply. “Junkrat, does your leg hurt?” 

“Nah!” 

Ana pales. “Junkrat, do you feel your leg?” 

Junkrat stills. “No.” His voice was quieter. “You know what I feel? I feel tired…” 

“Stay awake! Look at me,” Ana ordered, not nearly close enough to be prepared for a surgery. She can do what she can to make it less painful until they get to the base. 

“G’night, Mako…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA yea ok winter break is over rip i literally dislike my classes so diddly darn much but I think they'll get better!! It's a chance to meet some new people. Also, I met a classmate through some of my ps4 friends (that I really didn't get along with) irl and I finally have an overwatch friend!! This is a good way to start 2017, so I think it'll get better.
> 
> enough about that lol so uh stuff went down in this chapter. I'm not a doctor btw. 
> 
> THIS IS IMPORTANT PLS READ:
> 
> IF SOMEONE IS VOMITING, DON'T LAY THEM ON YOUR BACK!!! VERY DANGEROUS!! seriously, don't let people puke on their back. I got sick at my last raider (a sport in jrotc) meet and i was puking on my back, and i didn't know how harmful it is so i really just wanted to mention that. plus it goes along with what;s happening.


	5. Remember Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im sorry guys

Even if you weren’t in his place, you’d understand the feeling. You stayed up all night over something stupid, finally crashing too late into the dawn. You’re woken up by your alarm for work or for school. You feel as if you barely even slept. It went by so fast, and now you’re filled with dread. 

Junkrat’s eyes are fluttering open at the sound, the piercing loud alarm that won’t stop ringing in his ears. He struggled to see, but everything is too bright, a white light filling his eyesight. “Mako, turn it off!” he hissed. His arms were chained down to the bed. He’s too out of it to care. “I’m goin’ back to bed.” 

Something sharp is slammed into his arm. A pained cry escaped his lips. “Roadie, the ‘ell?” he screeched. Some of the tiredness fades, but it still hurts to move. 

“He can’t be awake for this!” There’s shouting. It’s white noise to him. 

“If he loses consciousness again--” Not the place nor time for arguing about this. 

“Just takin’ a short nap…” The adrenalin shot faded, not lasting nearly long enough. His eyes close. 

 

When he awakes again, he can’t hear anything. For a second he panics, thinking he’s gone deaf. There’s a cough dragging through him, and it hurts, but the sound is almost music to his ears. The panic did not reside. It stormed in his chest. 

He couldn’t remember where he was. He struggled to remember anything that happened, but everytime he thinks only pain is brought to mind. Everything burns, but he has to move. He jumps off from the bed, crashing into the ground. He takes down something with him. 

He winced, waiting for the aching pain to spike, but nothing happens. He shakes his right leg, which feels completely numb. His vision is blackening out; his hands are scrambling to find the leg to wake it up. 

His pale hands graze against wood, and he pulls back. He focuses long enough for his vision to clear up, and he feels instant regret. His leg wasn’t there anymore.

Everything hurts. He doesn’t cry or make a sound. He could only stare. His hands felt the peg, felt where it meets his thigh. Bandages cover it up. 

“Junkrat!” There’s a blonde walking in through the door, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. There is blood splattered on her white coat. “You are awake. How do you feel?” She’s reaching out to help him back into the bed when he outstretches his hand and slaps her across the face. 

“Who do you think you are? Hands off, you creep!” he screamed, struggling to his feet. He used his left leg as a stable, his peg not supporting him as well as he had hoped. “I oughtta blow this whole darn place up.” He grins mischievously. “It’ll teach you lot not to mess with me and Roadie.” 

“What’re you talking about?” The doctor stepped back, eyes wide. “Do we need to down your dosage? It’s making you really loopy.” 

“I don’t need your drugs to be loopy,” he snickered. “Anywho, Roadhog’ll be here to kill you all and aid in my escape soon, so, any last words?” He was cocky. She’d give him that. 

“C-Calm down,” she stammered, afraid of the unarmed junker. “No one has to be hurt.” 

“You cut off my bloody leg! I’m already hurt,” he argued, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“It was infected! We had to,” she reasoned. “If we were trying to hurt you, why would we give you the peg?” 

Junkrat is leaning on his leg, struggling to keep his balance. He smashes his fist into a flower vase, picking up a glass shard. “I don’t trust you.” He holds out the shard threateningly towards her. 

“I’m trying to help,” she pleaded for her sake. “You told me you trusted me when we first met.” 

“Bullcrap! I’ve never met you,” he growls. 

He steps closer, glass shard pressed against her chest. People are racing into the room to drag him away, but Mercy simply digs her feet into the ground, too lost too move. 

“You… don’t remember me?” she asked. “It’s me, Mercy. Remember?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, not ringing any bells.” There’s hands pulling her back, but not a hand is laid on Junkrat. “What’re you, like, a one night stand?” Something inside of her snapped. 

“Do you remember anything about coming here?” she asked. The nurse behind her tried to pull her away again, but Mercy pushed him back instead. “Someone get Jack in here.”

“So you admit to capturing me?” he asked, taking words out of her mouth. “Did you capture Roadhog, then, too?” Mercy doesn’t know what to say at this point. She’s caught in between a rock and a hard place. If she isn’t careful here, she could easily end up in a worse spot.

“You forgot about Roadhog, too?” There’s a pain, like a shot in his head. He crumbled for a moment, flashes of things he can’t make out. There’s so much blood that he can’t see anything. There’s flesh against his skin, and he’s back in reality, more confused than ever. Mercy had taken the upper hand, quite literally, grabbing his hand that held the glass. The glass had cut into his hand, and Mercy was careful to not make it any deeper. “Breathe, Junkrat.” He didn’t even know he had been holding his breath. “Will you follow me?” 

The nurse from earlier is giving him a testing look. Junkrat wants answers. He follows. 

She’s taking him out of the dreaded room. The peg feels strange to walk on, but there isn’t much pain. If they were really trying to hurt him, he supposes, they wouldn’t have helped him to this point. 

She sits him down on a table so she can have better access to his wounded hand and his leg. “How’s it feeling?” 

“Not bad,” he replied, avoiding her eyes. “Where’s Roadhog? And, how did I lose my leg?” 

Mercy is finishing up wrapping his hand when she answers. “He’s not here.” Obviously, Junkrat thinks, but doesn’t say anything. “I’d also like to know why your leg was injured so badly in the first place, but I guess neither of us will be finding out until you remember. You don’t seem to have amnesia. The fever and the amputation is probably messing with your head.” 

“Fever?” he echoed. 

“It’s gone down considerably,” she replied, waving it off. There’s a knocking at the door, but the knocker does not wait for an invitation. Two men step into the relatively small room. “I need to talk to you, Jack. In private.” The older man’s eyes are soft, gentle. The other man’s eyes, however, are blown wide and his feet hesitate at stepping in. 

Mercy gives an apology and stepped out of the room with Jack. The terrified one is stuck in the doorway, too frigid to even move. His lips are trembling, and he is shaking. “J-Jamison?” he stammered, not daring to step closer. 

“Oi, the name’s Junkrat,” he corrected. It didn’t come out as venomous as he had intended it to be. Something inside of him took a bit of pity on him. A shred, nothing more. “Who are you supposed to be?”

The man is in questionable clothes. Rollerblades? Real classy, man. “Lucio.” It’s more of a plead than an answer to a question. He’s begging for him to remember. “Y-you…”

“Alright, then, Lucio,” he interrupts. “That nurse is hiding something, and I wanna know what it is. I know you lot have some clue on where Roadhog is.”

 

Jack’s eyebrows are furrowing in together. After some explaining, he asked, “This is temporary, right?” 

“Most likely,” Mercy replied, almost certain of herself. “He’ll be okay. He won’t stop asking for Roadhog…” It’s unnerving, and Mercy didn’t even know him. The amount of pity she feels in unbearable, but as a battlefield medic, it’s nothing new. “I don’t know what to tell him.” Even if it’s not new, it still hurts. 

Jack hesitates before opening his mouth. Honestly, he doesn’t know what the best way to go about this situation, if there even is one. “I’ll talk to him.” Mercy smiled wryly before opening the door. 

Lucio looked like he was about to burst into tears. Jack is quickly over there, offering that they go return Junkrat to his room. “He does have a strong fever!” Mercy reminded them. “Please, be careful with him.” 

It’s exhausting to do all this explaining all over again. At to what point his memory went back to, they haven’t a clue. There’s a rough estimate of somewhere before he was captured, so about a year back. 

They’d expected him to be more exhausted than ever, having just lost a leg and suffering from a strong fever, but he acts as if nothing is wrong. Instead, he rambles about bombs and Roadhog. He doesn’t talk about much else. 

“About Roadhog,” Jack started suddenly when they were seated in his room. Lucio stared at his feet. He wanted to protest, but Junkrat deserved to know. “He’s… He’s not here, Junkrat. I’m sorry.” 

“Well, duh! I know that,” he said, grinning. Lucio looked up sharply, face matching Jack’s. 

“You do?” they exclaimed at the same time. 

“I still don’t trust you lot all that much, but I figured you wouldn’t have captured Roadie if you were trying to save me. He’s probably off doing something else.” 

“No,” Jack started again, but losing himself mid-sentence. The words aren't coming to mind, and he finds himself t a loss. The guilt burns at his stomach. It's not fair to him to be quiet, but he’s not sure if he can take it. 

He's just lost his leg, and there's a fever burning through him. He's never seen the junker so alive. One wrong move and that could all be gone. 

It's not like Mercy to let a sick patient out of her grasp, but she made an exception with Junkrat. Why, Jack hasn't an idea. Letting him roam freely may not be in her best interest, but Doctor’s orders. 

The pain meds from his amputation have worn off after a while of sitting in his room. Junkrat’s liveliness is dying down a little by little, but he is still hyperactive. 

This is what Junkrat was like. His cheeks burn red from the fever and his excitement; his eyes glow with stars in his eyes. His voice never falters. His rambling is off the rails, showing no sign of stopping. This, before them, is a ghost of when Junkrat was alive. 

He’s seen this before. Hell, he's been through this before. This isn't anything new to him. Everyone goes through losses, but this here was a loss of a world. Junkrat would recover, eventually. Now, however, Lucio and Jack don't dare say a word. 

Even if they did, there were no words to say. 

Junkrat carries on. They don't listen. They're too sucked into the dark thoughts about the ghost. Next thing they know, Junkrat is hacking up a red substance. 

They hadn't even noticed he had started eating a yogurt, one of the worst possible things he could have been consuming right now. 

He pulls up, wipes his mouth, and grins. “I just had a grand idea!” He doesn't wait for them to ask. “I'm gonna swallow an explosion!” 

If that was possible, the two heroes did not want to see that happen. They weren't going to wait this time, unlike earlier before. “Junkrat, no.” Their voices are in unison. 

Junkrat moves to go off the bed, in which he was supposed to be resting in. His feet touch his vomit, but he shows no sign of noticing. Lucio’s face scrunched in discomfort. “That's sick, man. Get the mop.” He shuts his eyes. 

Junkrat continues on, trailing into the kitchen. Soldier 76 is on his feet, a towel in his hand. He's heading towards the kitchen, which is basically just a microwave and some other small appliances. 

He's wetting the towel in the sink when he feels Junkrat eyeing him. “What?” He turns to look at Junkrat, who is backing up. 

“What’re you doing?” His voice is almost shaking. “With that.” 

From the way he shaked, one would think Jack had a gun in his hand. In reality, he simply held a soapy washcloth in hand. “You stepped on your own vomit. Just gonna wash it off.” 

“No no no no!” He was twenty feet across the kitchen (not literally, his room isn’t that big.). “Stay away from me!” 

The terrified look from when he had first woken up is back in his eyes. “What’re you wigging out for?” The commotion had attracted Lucio into room. “Come here for just a second--”

Junkrat cuts him off with a scream. “Don’t touch me!” He continues stepping back until he finds himself pressed against Lucio. He tenses up, whipping around to look at Lucio. Lucio held up his hands in surrender to look disarming. Junkrat sprints past. 

His foot is slippery when it pushes off of the ground. His peg leg is failing him, as well as his flesh foot covered in the slimy substance. 

“Junkrat? What’re you...” D.va trailed off. Her hand plugs her nose, and her face scrunches in disgust. “What is that smell?” Junkrat pulls to a stop, checking behind him. There’s no sign of Lucio and Jack, those traitors.

“What smell?” He feigned innocence. 

She sniffs the air. “Vomit,” she decides, “With a mix of your usual smell. Sorry, my dude, but you don’t smell too great.” She sugar coated it as much as she could. The point needed to get across. 

“I smell it too,” Tracer said, suddenly appearing. “You feeling alright, love?” 

“Dandy,” he grits out. There’s a shout behind him, suddenly, and he breaks off into a sprint once again. This time, however, he finds himself getting winded much faster than usual. 

He finds himself in a quiet library, an empty room filled with his pants. He draws in a shaky breath before letting himself sink to the floor. 

This unbearable heat is burning at his forehead. His throat aches, and he feels so much worse all of a sudden. He lets himself close his eyes just for a few seconds. 

He must have blacked out because he’s being shaken awake by a worried Lucio. “Please, don’t run,” he begged, grabbing his hand. Junkrat twists out of his grip. 

“I don’t like water,” he says in a matter of fact tone. 

“Please, let us just wash it off,” he pleaded. “Your other leg, as well, it needs disinfection.” 

He visibly tenses at the mention of his leg. Of how sensitive it is right now, the thought of water drenching his leg fills him with red hot anger. He pushes himself on to his feet and starts running again. 

This wild goose chase is leaving Junkrat in shambles. Everytime he breathes, he feels a pang in his chest. He finds himself in a place he doesn’t recognize. From the looks of it, a storage room. He ducks behind a box, tuckered out, and sprawls down for a nap. 

He doesn’t fall asleep safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO EXCITED NEXT CHAPTER SICK FIC PLUS BATH FIC COMBINED SIGN ME UP SUPER EXCITED


	6. Sickfic + Bathfic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im a sucker for sickfics

“You did what?!” Mercy’s panicked voice filled the room. Soldier 76 was at a loss for words. He didn’t have an excuse. The best thing to do now, the smart thing to do, is to shut up until Mercy is done. If you value your life, you don’t mess with Mercy. “He’s supposed to be in his room, resting!” She’s running her fingers through her hair, scratching her scalp as a nervous habit. 

“He slipped out of our fingers,” Lucio explained, defending himself. “We had only tried to clean him up a bit.” 

“I have come to learn he is hydrophobic,” Mercy agreed, tapping her heels against the marble tile. “You know this, as well, Jack.” His name was poison on her tongue. 

“I didn’t think a wet towel would have freaked him out,” he protested. 

Mercy was silent for a couple of moments. Lucio and Jack were wincing, waiting for her to get mad at them. They never came, though. Instead, they were met with a wishful humming. 

“That’s not a half-bad idea,” she mused to herself. She spun around on her feet, picking up her pencil and scribbling something down in her journal. 

Jack peered over at Lucio, who was standing at attention. He smirked. “At ease, soldier,” he teased, and Lucio realised he had taken the position without even thinking. He shifted on his feet. 

“Okay, new plan!” she chirped, as if she wasn’t just about to castrate the two of them. “A cold shower would do him good! I do fear that he is overworked, but it’s scientifically proven to help with fevers. You can do that. Right, Jack?” The way she spat his name sent shivers down Jack’s spine. 

Jack was frozen. Lucio answered for him. “Um, how exactly are we going to convince him to take a bath?” 

Mercy grinned. “By any means necessary, Junkrat better be bathed by the end of today,” she said, giving a wink. “Even if you have to use force.” 

Jack looked on this situation as any soldier would. He had a battle plan in hand, one for sure that wasn’t going to fail. He had assembled himself a team, a carefully chosen team of hand-picked heroes. 

Hana is yawning. “Yeah, right, old man.” She’s sat up on a table, blowing a peice of bubblegum. She’s swinging her feet. “You’re taking this too seriously.” 

“I am not,” he assured, slipping on his visor. He looked funny, being the only one in battle gear around a bunch of casual heroes. “You should take all missions seriously, no matter how silly they may seem to be.” 

“They’re all here because they have nothing better to do.” Hana is gesturing to the group, which consisted of Lucio, Tracer in a onesie, McCree, an unamused Mei, and a very sadistic looking Genji in the corner. 

“Oh? So why are you here?” Jack asked, feeling proud of himself that he got the upper hand. Over a teenager. The proudness falters. He’s arguing with the kid again. 

“‘Cause I just want to see the world burn,” she giggled. Genji held up his hand for a high-five. She slaps it. 

A rosy pink dusted his cheeks as he shakes off the mockery. Tracer is at his side, cupping her hand over her mouth and his ear. She whispered, “Are you sure you want Genji on this mission?” 

“I’m positive. He’ll be motivated to find him. It might also give them a chance to work things out,” he replied. Tracer seemed satisfied with the answer, so she leans back. Jack claps his hands together, looking back on his team. “Spread out. Turn on your comms if you have any sign of where he might be.” 

With that, the team scattered. Genji was off like a lightning bolt, sprinting at a high-speed. He might have been faster than Tracer,. Might have been, if she wasn’t so competitive. 

Reaper hated how loud things got in the compound. He found going on a walk would somehow ease his will, and the noise became more bearable. Normally, on a Sunday afternoon he would be outside, feeding the owls out of his hand. 

He’s walking through the typically quiet storage room, looking for his shipment of birdfeed. He had always kept extra in his storage room. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but he did want to keep his owl friends to himself. He never kept the food in his room. He’s walking down the lines of boxes when he hears a pained moan. 

He stops in his tracks. “How many of you stupid teenagers are going to sneak back here to have unsafe sex?” he called out, looking over the rows of boxes. He keeps walking, keeping his ears open to the panting. He hears a smack against a wall. “I’ll give you a countdown to put some clothes on before I find you. 10, 9, 8, 7…” He trailed off, counting down. “One. Ready or not, here I come.” It’s a light hearted saying, but his voice proves it to be anything but. 

He turns around the corner at where the sounds had come from. 

Now, he’d seen some nasty things down back here. He doesn’t particularly like catching some exhibitionists back in the rat-infested storage room, but he’d probably prefer finding that than what lays before him. 

Junkrat is curled up in a ball. His head is pressed against the wall. His face is flushed in a scarlet red. Sweat beads are rolling down his skin, and his eyes are squeezed tight. “Junkrat?” He calls his name out, but he doesn’t move. He squats down, placing his hand to his forehead. He’s burning up. He cursed. “Why aren’t you in the med bay?” he hums, moving to pick him up. Junkrat’s eyes fly open and he reels back in a panic. 

“What’re you doing?” he exclaimed, staggering on his feet. His chest is hitching. “Stay the bloody Hell away from me!” Reaper takes a battle stance, blocking him off from running. It doesn’t work too well, as he ducked under in between his legs and slipped through.

“Come here, you rat,” he rasped out, following close behind. 

Junkrat looks behind him to check just how close Reaper was behind him, leading him to crash into a wall. A moving, breathing wall. “There he is!” There’s yelling in the background, but Junkrat pays no mind. 

“Roadhog, you’re here!” Sure enough, he’s standing right there. Junkrat climbs up on his big friend, waiting to be thrown off like he usually did. “Just in time, too! They’re trying to kill me!” Roadhog doesn’t say anything. He’s never been a man of many words. “We gotta get out of here!” Roadhog doesn’t move. “Hoggie? Let’s go.” 

Reaper is right behind him now. He doesn’t move to grab him just yet, just stared. Tracer is next to him, saying things into her communicator. “What’re you waiting for?” Junkrat asked, gripping on tight to his arm. “Mako?” There’s a hand at his back, picking him up easily. He looks back at Roadhog. “What are you doing?!” Roadhog places him down in the hands of Reaper, who threw him over his shoulder. He flails and kicks as he’s carried away from Roadhog. 

“Please!” he screamed, holding out his arm. “Don’t take me away from Roadhog!” There’s a pit in his stomach, and he feels like hurling. This time, he’s not sure it’s the fever making him sick to his stomach. “Leggo of me!” 

Roadhog’s expression is covered by his mask. Junkrat is lost in the way he stands, not moving an inch to save him. “They’re going to kill me!” Tears are welling in his eyes, and he doesn’t remember being such a crybaby. He gets the feeling he won’t see him again. 

“Junkrat, darlin’, we ain’t going to kill ya,” McCree assures, walking behind Reaper. Junkrat is held in place by Reaper’s arm, a tight grip on his legs. 

“Please!” he pleaded, digging his hands into Reaper’s shoulder. “Don’t take Roadhog away from me!” Reaper swats his hand at the untrimmed fingernails digging into his shoulder. “MAKO!” He screams as Roadhog only gives a simple wave. Junkrat wants to hurl. McCree notices the way he tenses, giving Reaper a warning. Hands are on him, and he’s being held to the floor to let out the contents in his stomach. “M-Mako…” He’s sobbing now. 

He doesn’t remember being such a baby. He just can’t shake the feeling this is the last time he’ll see Roadhog again. Junkrat takes this chance to bolt back to Roadhog, but there are hands grasping at his shoulder. 

McCree didn’t know the kid well. He had remembered how he looked the day they found him, the ghost of a man. He recalled how dead he looked, and he hates the sight before him. 

Junkrat is reaching out to a hallucination. Reinhardt is standing there, frozen in how to act around Junkrat, who had to be ripped off of him. He is most definitely not Roadhog. 

His feet don’t want to move, but he forces himself to charge as fast as he can. He’s becoming careless, barely picking up his feet. He wheezes, trying to speed up at the sound of McCree’s footsteps behind him. He felt his back hit not a cold stone wall, but the warmth that is Jesse McCree. With a yelp, he’s yanked up off the ground easily. “Jesus, do ya even eat?” he asked, “Ya weigh as much as a newborn.”

Junkrat is flailing against him, refusing to go out without a fight. “Put me down, cowboy! Y-You won’t--” he’s fumbling at his words, and the fever is kicking in now more than ever. “I-I don’t.. No! Let go! You--”The poor junker is worn out from his fever and the sobbing. His head is pressed against his chest, and he knows he is warm by the way Junkrat recoils away. “He left me to die,” Junkrat mumbles, letting a tear free. 

He understands how he feels. He had his best intentions for him in mind, so please, don’t get angry at what he says next. 

McCree knows the shambles of the man, knows what needs to be done. “Yer actin’ like a real child.” Junkrat flinched. “A bath ain’t gonna kill ya.” 

“It is!” he insisted. “I’ll die, I tell you.” 

 

“It seems ya act like a newborn as well,” McCree chuckles, holding the sick junker tight. Heat is burned at his cheeks in embarrassment; he feels humiliated. “Guess we’ll treat you like one, too.”

Junkrat whined, trembling in his arms. “Y-You--Where are you taking me?” When he doesn’t get a reply, he simply continues his rambling. “Are you going to torture me?”

“Now, just what are you on about?” McCree asks, stopping his whistling, “We don’t even have those, do we?” This base, he didn’t think, had any dungeons. 

“Interrogation room,” Reaper corrects, “Fortunately, that’s not where we’re taking you.”

Junkrat opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off as the doors open and he’s met with some of the heroes around a rather large bathtub. He screams, gaining the attention of the heroes before him. “No! No! No! You don’t know what you’re doing!” he yells, writhing in McCree’s grip. He’s flailing and kicking and screaming, but the hits are weak and so it Junkrat. “Please,” he begs. “P-Please.” His screams are cut off with a couch and all of a sudden, he’s gagging and struggling to breathe. 

“Doesn’t weigh a pound,” McCree says when he approached Solider 76 and the others.

“When’s the last time you’ve ate, son?” Soldier asks, expecting an answer. 

“Screw you,” is the only response he gets. 

“The bath is ready,” Mei announces, turning off the faucet. McCree tightens his grip as he steps closer to the tub, and he feels Junkrat twitch. 

He’s not fighting to get away anymore. Instead, he’s clinging to him with everything he has left. “P-Please, don-t let go! I’m sorry; I’m so sorry! I-I will do anything! Just not this--” McCree lowers him, but he won’t loosen his grip.

Earlier, he had been fighting with everything in his power to get away, but now he clings to McCree.

“Sweetheart,” McCree says with a sad smile,” You leave me no choice.” And with that, Junkrat is dropped down into the tub. The water is, well, water, and he hates it. 

Junkrat fights. He’s immediately climbing out of the tub only to be pushed back in by Reaper. Reaper’s gloved hand doesn’t move, stays on top of his head and keeping him held down. 

“Please, I’ll do anything! Get me out of here!”

“It really is just a bath,” McCree consoles, kneeling down to the bath. He, Jack, Reaper, and Jamie are the only ones left in the room. Everyone else was ushered out, so Jamie could calm down a tiny bit. “I promise ya. It’s not torture.” 

“You’re going to kill me!” he insisted, quivering in the tub. 

Realization dawns on Jack. “Oh,” he said, dumbly. McCree perks up. “Junkrat, this isn’t Australia. Our water isn’t radioactive.” During the omnic war, the waters near Australia were considered unsafe. So many chemicals were dumped in there. It’d make sense for him to be afraid of water, if no one had explained it to him.

There’s a hand wiping at his cheek, stealing a tear that Jamie didn’t even realize had fallen. He’s shaking in the grip of Reaper, trembling as McCree consoles him. He pales, realizing Jack had suddenly gone away. Before he could turn around and ask about it, a bucket of water was poured over his head. 

“I-I hate this,” he mumbles. Though, it’s not all that bad. The cold water feels nice against his skin, his feverish red skin. 

“It’ll be done with soon,” Jack reassures,squirting shampoo into his hand. “If you’re good, I’ll give you a treat.”

“He’s not a dog,” Reaper said, “A child, maybe, but not a dog.” Jack doesn’t reply. Jamies does, with a thrash.

“I don’t want anything from you!” The hand on his head lifts up to give him a small pat. 

“Quiet,” he scolds. “Breathe.”

Jamie shakes his head.

“Son, this is an order,” Jack says, “Breathe. The sooner you comply, the faster this will be over with.”

That got Junkrat to finally take in a large breath before his head is pushed down into the water, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. His head pops out, and he’s taking large breaths of air. 

“The water is almost pitch black with dirt,” McCree observes, draining the tub water. 

The tub empties before McCree plugs it up and starts filling it up again. The water is clear, this time.

“Who woulda thought?” McCree asks, “Blond with freckles. Wow.” He looks like an entirely different person now clean. 

Junkrat feels more lotion in his hair as Jack rubs the conditioner into his scalp. It feels relaxing, Jamie has to admit it. Not that he’d ever tell them that. 

His head is being dunked under the water again, letting the conditioner soften his hair. His head is yanked gently up above water again, letting him breathe.

Then, Jack comes around the side with a pink ball in his hands. He holds it out to Jamie. 

“What is it?” he asks, shrinking away. He’s pushing back against Reaper, edging away from him. 

“A bomb.” 

“Jack, are you insane?” Reaper gripes, “Don’t give him a bomb!”

“Give him the bomb,” Junkrat says in the third person. McCree rolls his eyes. These idiots.

Jack does, placing the bomb in his hands. Junkrat is confused, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What type of bomb is this? Can’t figure it out.”

“It’s a bath bomb,” McCree explains, “Jack, where did you get it?”

He doesn’t reply. “Put it in the water.” He does, and he’s met with a beautiful shade of blue filling the tub.

Junkrat doesn’t hate this. 

He hates water, but this isn’t half-bad. The bomb makes it bearable, but he’s still ready to get out. 

“C-Can you take me out now?” Now that his face is clean, the rosy pink blush on his cheeks is noticeable. It’s obvious he’s embarrassed. Who wouldn’t be?

“Almost done,” Jack almost sings, rubbing soap on him and rinsing it off. “Alright, you’re good now.” 

Junkrat is waiting for the hand to ease up, so he can spring out of the tub, but instead hands swoop under his arms and yanks him up out of the tub. He’s set down on the floor, being wiped down with towels. The towels are warm, and soon enough he’s dry. He was handed some new clothes. When thrown in the tub, he had kept his cargo shorts on

Junkrat moves to take off now, but he’s again, for what may be the thousandth time, scooped up into Jack’s arms, bridal style. He feels fresh after the bath, but the sickness still dwells in his chest. He’s coughing into his fist. “L-let go of me,” he grumbles, the fight insde of him died down to a small flame. 

He's sleepy, more tired than he's ever felt. He doesn't feel scared anymore. He feels calm. He's too tired to be embarrassed. The door creaks open and the quiet leaves him. There's many voices now, not terribly loud, but so loud enough it wakes him up out of his daze. 

“Dude, he looks wiped out.” Junkrat wants to fight, but he can’t find the energy to. He stirrs instead, wincing. “I’ve never seen him so quiet.” The voice is Mei, who sounds amused. “Has his fever gone down?” Mei is cold, and she’s laying a cold, wet rag on his forehead. Junkrat shivers and lets out a shaky breath. 

“M..Mako,” he’s mumbling, they realize. Junkrat had fallen asleep just like that. He wasn’t one to sleep so easily in front of people, yet here he was, passed out in the Strike Commander’s arms. Junkrat mumbles out some other words that no one can recognize. 

“This kid weighs like two pounds,” he says to the others, walking into the cafeteria. It’s empty since it’s so late at night, but some heroes linger around. They were anxiously waiting to see how the mission turned out, and Angela was waiting to give him some medicine. 

Angela is at Jack’s side the moment he steps into the cafeteria. “Good job.” Her voice is quiet, careful not to disturb the sleeping rat. “I have some medicine for him.” 

There’s a thermometer slipped into his mouth, and Angela has to hold him still for a little while. After a moment, it beeps and she takes it out. “Junkrat,” she sighs, rubbing her temple. She’s quick to grab some of the liquid medicime, pouring it into a tiny container. “Wake up.” 

His eyes flutter open and something is being pressed to his lips. “Don’t want it,” he mumbles, shaking his head. 

“It’ll help you,” she says, stroking his hair. “Just let us help.”

Jack’s there, so is McCree. People are watching, but Junkrat doesn’t notice. He’s sucked into this, and he’s oblivious to the outside world. 

“I know you must’ve been scared, more than you’d like to admit,” Jack says, “But it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. You’re on our team now, and you’re not our enemy.”

Angela brings the medicine close to his lips again, and he growls. He musters the strength to sit up, considering to attempt to take off. Instead, he grabs the medicine from her hands and gulps it down quickly. It tastes awful, and Junkrat tries to hide his wince. 

And, then, there’s food being held out to him. A warm bowl of soup. Despite the fever burning inside of him, he wants to get that awful taste out of his mouth. He accepts it, drinking some of the broth. 

“Thank you, Junkrat,” Angela says, “I’ll come check with you tomorrow morning. Please, take it easy, will you?” He made no promise. 

Junkrat is sitting at the table, slowly eating his food. He normally would dig into the food he was given; he remembered all of the times Mako had stolen food. They never knew when they were going to get their next meal, and they always savored the one before him. 

It won’t be like that, anymore. He’s here now without Mako. 

Even so, the lonlieness isn’t picking so hard at his heart right now. He’s breathing, letting his lungs expand fully. He’s aware of where he is now with these heroes.

He’s enjoying his meal with the others. He doesn’t feel the gaze of Genji, who stood in the doorway. Zenyatta was at his side. “In due time,” Zenyatta assured, a hand on his shoulder. 

Genji coldly shakes it off. “We’ll see about that. Next time, though, I won’t take pity.” 

Genji couldn’t admit to himself that he had hesitated at the junker’s meltdown. When he started hallucinating for Roadhog, he backed off. He got the feeling that Zenyatta was proud. 

Jack felt a stare, turning around. He gave a gesture with his hand, keeping eye contact with the cyborg. “Back off” bled out of Jack. 

And so he did. Genji felt uncertain with himself as he stepped back and carried on to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so much fun to write <3


	7. It Was a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flashback time! just a lil' thing into how things used to be

Ana Lucia could not find her mother. 

A couple seconds ago, she had been right behind her in the cereal aisle. Now, she finds herself in the shampoo section, without a clue where she had gone. Tears threaten in her eyes, but she shakes her head wildly. She takes off from the aisle, checking everywhere for any sign of her mother. 

She’s turning around the feminine products section when she spots a strange sight. There’s a worker in khakis that she recognizes as help, but the man’s face tells her to be wary. He is ducked behind something, quivering. He can’t take his eyes off what’s in front of him. 

Ana Lucia follows his gaze to see a gigantic man, one of the tallest beings she’s ever seen! He must be bigger than her uncle, and Ana Lucia’s uncle is a giant! “Sir!” she called out, stepping towards the man. “Have you seen my mommy?” 

She stepped closer to get a better look. A tall man has to be trustworthy. That’s a rule of life. 

His face is covered in a funny mask. She’s seen ones like them before, and they’re never a good sight. “Sir?” The man’s head is pointed directly at some medicine in front of him. “Are you looking for somethin’ too?” 

“...Fever.” That’s the only one Ana picked up on. 

“Medicine for a fever?” Her face scrunches up. “Then you’d need that nasty red stuff, right? Blegh, I feel bad for whoever has to take it.” She sticks her tongue out. 

The man’s head turns to look at her. “Are you lost?” 

“Sort of,” she admits, blushing. “But, my momma always said that when you get lost you find the largest tree and hug it! You’re the biggest tree I could find.” 

There’s a pause and Ana Lucia continues. “I’m Ana Lucia! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” she chirps, flashing a grin. She’s missing a couple of teeth. “Is someone in your family sick?” 

“Yes,” he replied, reaching out to grab a medicine bottle when he hears someone yell. 

“Get away from her!” It’s a security guard, eyes blown wide. Roadhog reaches for his shotgun, but Ana cuts him off. 

“Stop! He’s just trying to get some medicine for his family,” she insisted, stepping in front of him. Roadhog retracts his hand, grabs ahold of a bottle and some other supplies. “Go!” 

Roadhog hesitates before walking away. He looked kind of funny with a gas mask and a shotgun in his hand, buying strawberry flavored cough drops and other sorts of medicine. As he’s checking out, he notices a woman in the other line. “Please, sir, I can’t find my daughter,” she’s begging. Roadhog turns to her. 

“Medicine aisle. Go.” 

 

It was risky, Roadhog will admit. He didn’t have much of a choice, though. His hogdrogen wasn’t healing as it should. The city isn’t safe, and he knows that. 

He’s making his way back into a forest. He’s walking on the rocks into a small entryway by a waterfall. Inside, there’s a couple of boxes stacked up, a motorcycle, and a sick Junkrat curled up inside of a sleeping bag. 

His eyes flutter open at the sound of Roadhog’s footsteps. “Roadie!” His voice is hoarse. “I thought you abandoned me!” 

“Said I was going to the store,” he said, sitting beside him. 

“Must’ve forgot,” he said, moving to sit up but Roadhog just pushed him back down. He took notice to the scrambles of drawings. 

“You were supposed to be resting.”

“And I was!” he protested. “Gotta sweat out this fever.” He holds out some medicine, to which Junkrat shrinks away from. “Gross! Do not want!” Roadhog’s hand doesn’t falter. “You’ll never take me alive!” 

“Shut up.” The tone of his voice proves he’s not messing around. Junkrat accepts the medicine, cringing at the taste. He offers him a mint, a courtesy to both of them. His breath wasn’t smelling the best. He wasn’t either. 

Roadhog had washed him off in the waterfall not too long ago, but it might’ve just made him even more paranoid about radioactivity. If he can’t get Junkrat out of Australia soon, he might die like this. 

Roadhog tries not to think about it. Junkrat’s always in danger, especially in their line of work. He’s his bodyguard, so it’s natural to worry about him in danger. This, however, he may not be able to protect him from this. 

“Hey, Mako?” Roadhog doesn’t tell him to shut up this time. “Next time,” and they know there will be a next time. His fevers have been coming and going, worse every single time. Sooner or later, he’s not going to be able to bounce back. Mako definitely doesn’t want to think about the inevitable. “Stay with me.” 

Junkrat’s hands reach out to grab him, but Mako only hushes him. He places his hand over his eyes, closing the small junker’s lids. “Okay.” 

It wasn’t a promise. 

~

Junkrat shoots up in his bed, pajamas clinging to his skin with sweat. He’s out of breath, and he’s scrambling for the water at his bedside. He reaches too far, falling off his bed and crashing into the ground. His head hits first, hard enough that he’s sure it will bruise. 

Tears prick in his eyes, both from the fall and from the dream. 

As a child, he spent fevers alone. The omnic crisis went on since he was young. He couldn’t ever remember a time he wasn’t sick. He had a hard time going by, but things were better with Mako. Now, he’s gone again, and Junkrat feels like a child. 

Junkrat’s feeble hand reaches towards his lamp to bring some light into his dark room. His pale hand becomes illuminated, and he sees everything he normally wouldn’t. He looked down at his peg leg. 

He staggered to his feet, lunging towards his door. He slips out. There’s a couple of lights lit outside, but all the rooms are closed shut. He walks down the line, venturing out into the dark compound. “Mako?” he called out, grabbing a lantern off the wall.

He had seen him earlier, but Mako had betrayed him and left. “Mako!” He’s waddling down, feeling like a lost child. 

Maybe that’s what he is now. Simply a child who lost his way in the world a long, long time ago. When had it became this way? 

There’s a sudden pain in his forehead, so strong that it brings him down. He uses the wall as a crutch, struggling to stay on his feet. “Darlin’, you should really be restin’.” McCree stands before him. “What’re you doing up?”

“I can’t find Mako,” he replied. The silence that follows is heavy between them. 

“Everytime I think about it, my head starts hurting so much,” he confessed, grabbing at his hair. “I can’t remember how he looked, but I know I saw him. I know I did. Right?” 

McCree shifted. “Junkrat, get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll walk you back to your room.” 

“Where’s Roadhog?” Junkrat digs his feet into the ground. 

“Not here,” he replied, meeting his eyes. “Come on. You need your rest.”

Junkrat shakes his head. “‘M not tired,” he insisted. McCree is considering something. 

Finally, he said, “Okay. Just, please, make it back to your room when you can. Call if you need anything.” He tips his hat, then leaves. 

Junkrat continues to roam the halls, taking sight of a red carpet hallway. He walks down it, venturing deep into the mysterious hallway. He stops in front of a door, creaking it open at the sound of talking. 

“Master, I don’t know what to do.” He recognizes the voice, but he can’t place it. The voice comes from a dreaded onmic, whose face was pressed into his hands. 

“What do you want?” answers the omnic next to him. His face has no expression, but he seems deep in thought. 

“I want…” he trailed off. “I am uncertain. I have my doubts.” He lifts his face up to stare at his open hands. “What have I done? How do I…?”

Junkrat tries to listen in closer, but he ends up tripping and falling through the door, pushing it open. The cyborg flinches to his feet, stepping back. 

“You disgust--” He stopped, looking towards the other omnic. “Junkrat, what are you doing here?” He asked as calmly as he could. 

“Have you seen Roadhog?” 

The cyborg’s faceplate shows his eyes to soften, maybe, just a small bit. “I--”

The omnic interrupts him. “We have not,” he said. “You seem uneasy. Would you like to join us in meditation?” 

“With a couple of omnics? No thanks,” he scoffed. 

“How dare you talk to Zenyatta like that?” the cyborg threatened, clenching his feet. Zenyatta makes a sound, one seeming to put him at ease. “We’re not like the other omnics, okay?”

“I’m not like the other girls,” Junkrat sings in a teasing voice, causing Genji to lost his temper. He lunges after Junkrat, slipping on the carpet. His face plants face first into the carpet. 

Zenyatta let out a chuckle. “My sparrow, are you alright?” 

“M-Master! Why must you laugh?” He looked up, a scarlet red dusting his cheeks. 

“I am sorry,” he confessed, yet he still laughed. Their conversation was interrupted by a small laugh, one they didn’t recognize. They looked up to find Junkrat covering his mouth, letting a small giggle escape his lips. 

Genji wants to be angry. He really does. 

He’s embarrassed out of his mind. Not only has this twirp seen him without his faceplate, interrupted his meditation with his sensei, he has witnessed a most humiliating moment of his clumsiness. 

Still, he finds it hard to feel anger when Jamison has that smile on his face. His laugh isn’t one he’s heard before. Sure, he’s laughed, but not like this. It sounds genuine. 

Genji is smiling, too. All of them are. Laughing hysterically late into the night, shy of becoming early morning. 

As the sun rises, in this moment Junkrat finds himself in, the pain fades just a little bit less than it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short lil' thing. I'm going to return to the plot now, but I just wanted some filler chapters. They're all neccessary...
> 
> Also, I did a crafty thing! I made a felt D.VA bunny. I made one into a tiny pillow, and I made one to sew into a black tank top! It's so much fun to do, and I keep making so many.
> 
> ...I also made one for my crush, but it turns out he doesn't like D.va because she says "GG" irl and that bothers him... Should I still give it to him?


	8. It hurts to remember

Three days passed, and Junkrat couldn’t remember. 

He hadn’t a clue what was there, but he felt a gigantic block in his head that he could not see. Every time he closed his eyes, it was there, a reminder to remember, but he couldn’t. He’d spend hours on end in his head only to come up with no sign. 

Sometimes, it was painful. 

He’d get these awful headaches that’d last a couple of minutes then would soon pass. He’s often woken up in the middle of the night just so he can cry out of pain. He has yet to tell anyone about it. 

Lucio comes up and checks on him every couple of hours, each and every time careful enough not to wake him. He brings food, water, and other supplies. If he’s asleep, he just leaves it there on the counter for him when he wakes up. 

He was told to pop in and drop it off. He had other duties to do, after all, he was a hero. He was also a remixer who had a blog depending on him to post every so often. He had a million things to get to, yet he’d spend just a little longer in Junkrat’s room, just to carefully watch him sleep. 

He’d sometimes pull up a chair besides his bed and just watch his chest rise and fall. Junkrat sometimes would call out in his sleep, sometimes he would cry, and the worst, thrash around in what Lucio had hoped were simply nightmares. (Spoiler: They weren’t.)

Junkrat’s fever had gone down, at last, and Lucio struggled to get him out of his room. The junker had been all over the place only a few days ago, but then he became weary, rarely leaving his room. 

He convinced him to sit down in the cafeteria room. Lucio left him to sit while he got the two of them some food. 

His hands were open in his lap, and Junkrat stared down at them. He bit his lip, wincing. An alarm sounded in his ears, and he wanted to hurl. “You look like you could use some tea.” 

There wasn’t an invite, but Ana sat down anyways. Junkrat met her eyes. The old soldier set down a cup and poured some tea into it. “Thank you?” 

“You’re welcome,” a response to a question that wasn’t a question exactly. Junkrat touched it with a hand, picking it up. His strength failed him, almost dropping it. He took it with both hands and brought it to his lips. 

The headache swirled at the familiar taste. The block in his head pounded, causing him to spill some of the tea. He slapped it down on the table and took his head into his hands. “Junkrat? Are you okay?” It’s Lucio coming back over to his side, food in hand. 

“I can’t remember.” 

His voice is shaking. Everything around him is crumbling down to ruins. He’s losing his grip on reality. 

“I can’t remember,” he chants. 

He’s a broken record, stuck on a memory he can’t see, can’t hear. He can taste it clearly. It’s sweet, sweet enough for his likings. There’s something in the sweetness that reminds him of something sour, and it’s not the tea.

~

The episodes continued throughout the day. He’d get sucked into his head for a short while. He’d see it for a second. When he got free, he couldn’t remember. 

People kept a close eye on him after that. They knew he liked his alone time, but someone was always there. Genji had volunteered to keep an eye on him, and he had. 

Genji is perched up on a gazebo, staring down at a kid playing in the flowers. That “kid” was Jamison, rolling around in the dirt, having the time of his life. He was running around so much, one would never suspect he had a fever. He was walking towards a tree, when his body went limp. He slid into the ground, and Genji sprung into action. 

He grabs a tight grip of him and shaked him, but he shows no sign of waking up. He lifts him up and sprints through the compound. 

He doesn’t awake for a day. 

Mercy’s been in there with him the entire time. The rest of the heroes don’t know what to think. 

“Genji, you were with him,” Soldier 76 said for maybe the tenth time through this conversation. “Just tell the truth, son. What happened?” 

“I told you! He just passed out in the garden!” Genji yelled, holding up his hands. “You can’t really think I did something, can you?” 

“It’s no secret you two didn’t get along too well,” Tracer said. 

The group falls into an argument again, all closing in on Genji. Zenyatta is there, silent. Without a word. 

“We won’t know anything until Junkrat wakes up,” Soldier said, the voice of reason. “...If he wakes up.” 

“Don’t say things like that,” Lucio begged. “Please.” Jack opened his mouth, but was cut off when Mercy stepped through the doors. Everyone swarmed her with questions about the junker’s state, and she had to yell to get them to quiet. 

“He’ll be okay,” she announced, the hours of working with her patient showing. “Just had a memory lapse.” 

The daggers pointed towards Genji were taken away. “Memory lapse?” Lucio echoed. 

“From when he woke up from his fever and couldn’t remember us,” Mercy replied. “He’s asleep for now. When he awakes, however, I don’t know if he’s going to be too happy.” 

The group carries off into conversation again. 

Just a couple feet away from the angsty heroes, Junkrat stirred awake in his bed. 

He sat up to look out the window next to him. His face was drenched with tears, but no more dared to fall. He had cried so much he had no more left. He was hollowed out, empty. 

Memories didn’t flow back slowly. They came back all together as a slap in the face. He didn’t have the luxury of slowly processing the death of his… Mako. 

He stepped out of his bed by himself. 

He caught a glass of water by himself. 

He walked in this world alone. 

He stepped outside in front of the heroes, alone.

He was going to fight this battle alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another a short lil chappie for the road! 
> 
> also confirmed im going to give my crush the bunny dobt stop me


	9. Battle Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat is a silly goose.

Not much was known about the people who kidnapped Junkrat and killed Roadhog. Well, at least, Junkrat didn’t know anything. 

If Overwatch had the slightest clue as to who the organization was, they didn’t tell Junkrat that. No matter how many times he asked. And every time he asked why nobody would talk to him about it, they’d give him a look. 

It wasn’t long after he had regained his memory that he received a letter. A pink slip that had too many words for Junkrat to care. He skimmed through it, stopping at the word “probation”. He read and re-read the sentence, but it stayed the same. He was being put on probation. 

He had stormed into Jack’s office, outraged. The number of times he’s done this is too far to count. This isn’t his first time, and it surely won’t be his last. Jack doesn’t even care to look up. “I assume you have some…” he trailed off, looking for the right word. “Complaints.” 

“I need answers. Now,” he demanded, slamming his hand down on his desk. Footsteps neared, to which Junkrat paid no mind. 

“Sir--” The voice stopped abruptly. “I-I, uh, is this a bad time? I-I can come back…” His assistant is standing in the doorway, fidgeting. His hands are tight around the papers in his hand. 

“What is it, Cameron?” At this, Jack raised his head up, carefully avoiding Junkrat’s eyes. As soon as his gaze fell upon him, Cameron twitched. 

“I have the research papers from the lab!” he stammered. A rosy pink blush dusted his cheeks, and he avoided his gaze. 

“Leave them on my desk.” Jack returns to his paperwork, enraging Junkrat even more than he already was. 

“O-Oh, okay,” he said, sounding dejected. Junkrat growls at him, threatening him to leave so he can get on with things. The assistant squeaks. 

“OH, one more thing, Cameron.” He perks up, grinning. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Thanks.” Jack flashed a smile, and he melted. Junkrat snorted. The assistant left on that note with hearts in his eyes. Junkrat pushes some metal magazine holders filled with files off his desk, making room for him to sit. Jack sighed as he climbed up on it, blocking him from his work. He snapped the research files off the desk, searching through them. “I strongly advise you don’t go through those.” 

“What is it? Some love letter from Casanova?” Jack rolled his eyes. 

“You heard him say it was from the research lab. I’m sure you can put the pieces together as to what it is,” Jack said, grabbing the files out of his hand. “There is some things in here you might not want to see.” 

“Saying that just makes me want to know more,” he retorts, kicking his feet. “I got a bone to pick with you, Morrison. And it’s not about some silly love letter.”

“Research paper,” he corrected. “I have an idea what this might be about…” 

Junkrat slapped down the pink slip down in front of him. Jack wasn’t surprised in the least at the sight before him. “Got some explaining to do, Morrison. Go right ahead.” His voice was bitter to the bone. 

“Impunity doesn’t last forever,” Jack said, holding eye contact for a long couple of seconds. His blue eyes were strong, and Junkrat couldn’t help but shrink down a couple inches. He kept ahold of it, even so. “You did lie, Jamison.” 

 

He whistled. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ you about.” He feigned innocent. “Don’t call me Jamison.” 

“You do,” he insisted, voice calm. “Those were laws, Junkrat. You forged Mercy’s signature, as well as lied to me.” 

“I’m sure Mercy don’t mind,” he said, jumping off his desk. “Everything was okay; I felt fine.” 

“There’s so many things wrong with what you just said,” Jack sighed, slamming his head against his desk. “I don’t care how you ‘feel’ Junkrat. I needed you to take the appointment, anyways! We had to amputate you for God’s sake! I’m not going to let that go so easily.” 

Junkrat opened his mouth to speak, but Jack would not let him. “I can’t speak for Mercy,” he paused, letting the anxiety soak into his bones. “But, I, for one, am extremely disappointed in you.” 

Junkrat could have withstood hours of torture, which he had. He spent days being tormented at the hands of criminals, and he’d do it all again. He’d take torture any day over Jack’s disappointed Dad face. 

“It was a little white lie.” He defended himself weakly. 

“A lie is a lie all the same,” he growled, animal like. “You know what happens to liars, son?” Shivers ran down his spine. He shook his head. “No one’s told you, then?” Jack grinned ear to ear. A sadistic smile haunted him, and Jamison regretted all of his previous decisions. 

“No, sir,” he replied, maybe one of the first few times he had called him that. Maybe even the first time he’d ever had called anyone sir, much less Jack specifically. 

“You’ll have the pleasure of finding out real soon then.”

Junkrat could not sit still after that moment. He paced, chewed his fingernails, going through all his little nervous habits. He really didn’t want to find out what Jack’s ideas of punishments were. 

He found himself outside, once again, in a flower bed he has taken a liking to. There’s some sunflowers growing, and they seem to calm him down a bit. Today, however, there’s a pit in his stomach that won’t go away. 

“Jamie, I’m glad to see you up and about!” Lucio cheered, rolling up to him on his skates. How he glided so well on grass Jamison really had no idea. “What’s troubling you, pal?” 

Junkrat lets out a sigh, kicking out his legs. “Wot are Jack’s punishments?” All color drained from Lucio’s face, looking as pale as a ghost. His hands that were resting in between his tights startled with a slight tremor. “Mate?” He poked at the frozen skater. His face scrunched up. “Also, I never told anyone they could call me Jamie,” he grumbled, irritated. 

“What. Did. You. Do?” Every word came out as its own sentence. The tone in his voice sent shivers down his spine. 

“I made a fake health report from Mercy saying I was in perfect health to fight,” he replied uneasily. “After that, an injury on my leg has worsened during the storm, and, well, you know the rest. I don’t know why he’s so mad…” 

Lucio took a double take. “You don’t just,” he stammered at a loss for words. “You can’t just do that, dude! What were you thinking?” Anger hinted in his cheeks. 

“Now you’re all mad, too?” he asked, defeated. He fell back on the flowerbed, carefully avoiding the bee that buzzed next to him. 

Lucio huffed. “Of course, I’m mad!” He crossed his arms over his chest. He covered his eyes, dragging his skin down. “Why would you…?” 

“I shouldn’t have to defend myself!” he spat. “I wanted to fight! For Roadhog.”

Something snapped in Lucio. A nerve, something holding back all of his anger. Never before had he witnessed a flame in his eyes, no fire burned as passionately of his. “Would he have wanted this for you?!” he exclaimed, standing up. Junkrat shrunk. He was a child. “You can’t fight for him when you’re dead! For once in your life, think something through! You can’t do things like that!” 

“I can,” he retorted. “And I did. I will continue to do so! He fought for me, even in his very last breath. He protected me; it was his job! I want to do the same for him!” 

Lucio didn’t fumble with his words, not like how Junkrat did. “You think throwing your life away is justified? Your recklessness is putting all of his efforts to waste!” 

The words stung, but Lucio showed no sign of feeling guilt for the pained look on his face. “It’s not fair for him…!” he protested weakly. 

“It’s not fair,” Lucio snarled, “to those who care about you. Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Watery, angry eyes met his own. 

Junkrat shook his head. “No! None of you care,” he snapped. “You’re just trying to trick me. You’re with those awful people who took Roadhog! You’re trying to stop me from saving him.” 

“You’re delusional! I’m trying to protect you!” Lucio yelled, breaking all his morals. “We all are! Put yourself in our shoes! You lied to us, which could’ve ended so much worse than it had. You could have died! Then how would you have avenged him?” Silence. 

 

“Don’t treat me like a child!”

“Then, stop acting like one!” 

The teens were on their feet, screaming as loud as their lungs would allow them to. Passerbies stopped, some recording, most likely waiting for a physical fight to burst out (which obviously was not going to happen), some genuinely worried, but most scurried past without a care in the world. 

They were in each other’s faces, spitting. “I am not a child.” 

He laughed hysterically. He dragged fingers through his messy hair. “Junkrat,” and his voice was pleading almost, that angry, begging voice of comprehension, “we had to kidnap you. For a bath.” 

“You--”

“ENOUGH!!” 

The yell echoed throughout the garden, chilling everyone to stone. Junkrat didn’t move to look away from Lucio. Footsteps grew closer, and he didn’t dare to look. The steps were heavy, bearing down as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. 

“My office. Now.”  
~

“Are we running a middleschool, Morrison?” Gabriel’s hands are thrown up in a weird gesture as he paces around the office. Lucio and Junkrat are seated feet apart from each other in the seats in front of his desk. Jack sat in his seat, as calm as ever. “Why don’t you tell Jackie here what you were arguing about? I, for one, would like to know, too.” 

Silence. The two of them don’t move. Lucio is on the verge of tears. “Hmm?” Gabriel hummed, crouching down to meet his level. Lucio leans away. “Fighting over the last tampon?”

“I use pads, actually,” Junkrat grinned. “Not that female menstruation is anything to be ashamed about. They’re very important, so it’d be understandable if we were in privation from proper--” 

“At ease,” Jack ordered. “Lucio, please explain to me why you of all people would get so violent?” 

Junkrat opened his mouth to speak, but Jack stopped him. “I asked Lucio. You’d think you’d have enough sense to shut up with how much trouble you’re in with me already.”

Lucio hesitates before letting his words leave his mouth. Gabriel gestures for him to spit it out, not so kindly. “I’m so sorry!” Lucio’s head pushed down into his heads as he started grossly sobbing. “I felt so bad about Junkrat getting hurt. I should have checked him over before he left! It’s all my fault!” His sobbing didn’t cease for many minutes. “I wanted to,” he paused, sniffling, “knock some sense into him. He said that I didn’t care--” 

Sympathetically, Jack places a hand down on his back, rubbing circles. Junkrat bit his lip. 

You know that feeling you get when you want revenge on someone because they insulted you, so you hit them or abuse them emotionally. Then, next thing you know, you realize what a terribly thing you’ve done to them when they were just trying to help. 

You feel like a diddly darn jerk. Basically. 

He wanted to apologize. 

“You think we don’t care?” Jack’s tone makes him sick.   
He doesn’t apologize. “You don’t.” 

A shrill cry fell from his lips when a sharp hand was struck against his face. Red appeared instantly, causing Junkrat to recoil. An angry looking Reyes stood in front of him. Jack’s eyes were soft. “We gave you a home, food, a chance at a family--” Gabriel roars, and Junkrat can’t breathe. “Jack has been patient with you, and you go and lie to him like that? And above all of this, you try and pull some stupid stunt saying we don’t care?”

Jack whispers something to Gabriel, causing him to back down. Jack approaches now. 

“Listen, I know how important revenge is to you, but your life is important too.” The words were poison in his stomach. “Do you understand?” 

Junkrat didn’t move. 

Jack let out a sigh. “A lesson needs to be learned from this,” he drawled. “And a lesson will be learned.” 

He leaned in close. “Trust me when I say this is a promise.” 

Junkrat could not sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS HAS BEEN A PSA: i dont cuss like im sorry i know these characters prob cuss like sailors since they were in the military but like ok i dont cuss.
> 
> im so sorry but i just cant do it pls im so sorry 
> 
> also im sorry fo the slightl y sexist joke but like its not degrading (I think anayways) and thats how alot of people talk..... i dont know why military commanders r obsessed w tampons


	10. Obey

There were many things in this world he had feared, none that he would gladly admit to in the presence of others. Albeit, irrational fears (the dark, water… etc, all he had good reasons. Water has sharks, poison, the possibility of drowning, and a void of whatever lied in the deep. There’s no telling what thrives in the dark. There was so many logic reasons for his fears, but right now he hasn’t a clue as to why he is so afraid. 

His chest is tight, his throat is dry, and he’s sure the others had noticed his trembling by now. He staggered behind Jack, occasionally stopping to glance behind him. He slouched over, much more than usual. His demeanor was the contrary to Jack’s, who stood up straight with a huge grin on his face. He was practically skipping. 

Jamison was awoken almost right after he had finally got to sleep. Reaper woke him up by pouring cold water over his face, which he really did not appreciate. Gabriel had dragged him to Jack, throwing him at his feet. Jack seemed to be in a great mood, which made   
Jamison even more afraid. 

“So,” he started, much more aware of the itchiness in his throat, “Where’re we going?” His teeth chattered. 

“On a trip!” he chirped back. “I think we’re both in need of a vacation day.” Suspicion pooled. 

Junkrat raised his eyebrows. “Uh-huh? Where are we really going?” he inquired. “I need a place. Please.” 

“It’s not far,” he replied. “Well, it won’t be by vehicle. Thankfully, we have some escorts!” 

Junkrat hadn’t recognized the hallway they had been walking down. He has managed to explore the majority of the compound, and he has gone on some missions before. This ship hangar wasn’t seen by him before.

The ships before him were not battle ships, more of an escort. These kinds are just meant to carry a lot of people and supplies, and they weren't loaded with cannons. As he boarded, he felt a sense of protection at the sight of the other heroes. Something about being alone with Jack right now did not sound appealing to him. 

It's not that Jack would seriously hurt him. At the most, he knew he wouldn't kill him. He had promised him. 

“You never did tell me where we’re going,” Junkrat stated. The door shut behind him. “This is kidnapping!”

McCree rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hold your horses,” he ordered. Jamison stuck out his tongue and slapped the hand off of him. He snatched a pillow off of the couch built into the wall and threw it down on the floor. He fell back on it and closed his eyes. 

He loathed how everyone on board stared at him. 

Jack kept true to his promise. The ride wasn’t long at all. Before he knew it, Junkrat was outside. He hadn’t been outside like this in so long. The air was cold, not like how he remembered it. 

Perhaps he should have felt more… delighted to be outside. He did not, however. He’s not crammed inside cement walls. Somehow he feels more trapped out here than where he sleeps. 

“We got a little bit of walking to do!” Jack skipped by. The other heroes followed behind, much less enthusiastically. 

Junkrat couldn’t recognize his surroundings. They were on a street; he could tell as much as that. Jack was a couple feet ahead of him when he heard the sharp cry of a child. A mother was scurrying past with a young girl thrown up in her shoulder. The sight sent a shiver down his spine, and Jack smirked at him. 

“Junkrat, just a little bit farther ahead,” McCree promised. His sudden appearance made him flinch. He nodded, carrying on ahead. McCree caught up with Jack. He was turned to Jack, whispering something he couldn’t make out. Jack’s grin turned wry. 

“I know it’s humiliating,” Jack said. “That’s the point.” McCree whistled. Jack spun on his feet. “We’re here! There’s somebody I’d like you to meet.” Junkrat approached cautiously. “McCree, if you would.” 

There’s hands on him, and he’s being lifted off of the ground. Junkrat yelled out a curse before he’s thrown inside a small gate. It’s half the size of a bathtub, at the least. He’s staring at them, feeling betrayed. McCree’s hat covered his eyes. Jack wore an expression he couldn’t read. “Are you insane? I’m not--!” Junkrat stopped. 

Before him, a statue stood. Junkrat was not short in the slightest. He was a mere four feet tall compared to the monster in front of him. “W-What? Guys!” Rain is pouring down heavy. Water droplets roll down its face. 

The statue is coated in red. Its shape resembles a raven. The wings are at a full span, trapping Junkrat inside the cage. 

He couldn’t escape the gaze of the raven. “Ha ha!” He mocked a laugh. “You guys have had your fun! Now let me out.” He trembled. 

No one said anything. Junkrat continued his rambling. “Please!” he begged, pressing his back against the wood. “This isn’t--” He struggled for words. “You can’t!” His voice was so loud; he was sure people could hear him a mile away. He didn’t care. 

The raven stared. 

“I’M SORRY!” His throat ached, and he crouched down to the ground. He covered his eyes. “I’m sorry! Okay? I’m so, so sorry!” Tears were mixed with the rain droplets. “Please!” 

Silence. Junkrat lets out a sob. 

“Jack…” McCree’s voice is light. “He’s had enough.” 

He’s not satisfied. “For what?” His voice is demanding. 

“I-I,” he stammered, desperate to answer him. “I’m sorry for hurting Lucio. I’m sorry for- for lying to Mercy.” The poor kid isn’t able to continue for a moment. “I… I disappointed you…”

A long moment of silence passed. Junkrat takes his hands away to peek open. He’s met with those angry eyes, and he lets out a shriek. “Please!” 

“What have you learned?” 

“I’m sorry!”

“Junkrat,” Jack consoled. “What have you learned?”

“To be honest?” he tried. He was grasping at straws. “Don’t look at me!” His heart ached. 

There’s hands on him, and he choked. He’s being lifted out of the prison. He pushes off and launched himself into McCree’s shoulder. 

Junkrat is the sobbing little girl in her mother’s shoulder. A hand is rubbing circles into his back. “How many times am I going to hold you like this?” McCree sighed. Junkrat lets out a punched noise. 

“As many as it takes,” Jack answered. “You lack discipline, but that’s what I’m here for.”

Realization dawned in. “IS that what this was?”

“Exactly! To teach you a lesson,” he chirped. “It worked.”

Junkrat growled. “Whatever, can we just leave?” 

“Cut down the teen angst,” McCree ordered, but he wore a grin. “Before we head back, don’t you want to explore a bit?” 

“Not really.”

Genji crashes into the ground in front of them. Junkrat climbs higher out of fear. “...Oops.” 

Jack wants to address the situation, but he decides against it. “I guess we do have time. It wouldn’t hurt for Junkrat to get some fresh air.” 

McCree chuckled, “You too, Boss. Don’t remember the last time I’ve seen you have some down time.” 

“Been a while,” he said, content. “That’s how this job works.” 

“What do you say, Junkrat? Huh? Junkrat?” His fingernails dug into McCree. 

“What is he doing here?” His voice is quiet. 

“Who? Genji?” McCree asked, casting a glance at the fallen ninja. “I thought we were going to ignore him.” 

“Hey!” he defended. “I’m right here!” 

“Well, you’re freaking him out, so maybe you shouldn’t be,” Jack said, being the savage that he is. 

“I’m not freaking out!” Junkrat protested. A rosy pink blush dusted his cheeks. “I-  
I just! I’m a little embarrassed.” His voice got quiet. He couldn’t look at him. 

“No, wait!” Genji held his hand out. “I wanted to apologize to you, Junkrat.” He scratched at his head. “I’m sorry for hitting you. Truce?” 

McCree lowered him to the ground. He hesitantly reached out to take his hand, faltering. He grips it weakly and gives a light shake. “T-Truce.” 

Genji grinned. This was gonna be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little bit short! I had TECOM this week, so i spent a bunch of time preparing for that... i also have to make up a bunch of work blegh.... rest in piece


	11. Dream of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stars and moons and air balloons are what make the world go 'round

Warmth danced on his neck in a nostalgic way, a dream from a long time ago. For winter weather, it’s drolly warm out, not that Junkrat would complain. 

He didn’t dream of festivals. 

He dreaded them. He had no interest in them; he never did. He’s been to a festival once before, and the night ended in flames. 

“Junkrat, let’s go!” Genji is dragging him. 

“Let go!” he barked, striking his hand down on his arm. Genji steps back, appalled. Jack comes up between them. “I don’t remember being so buddy buddy with you…” 

“You said something to me while you were sick,” Genji replied. “I suppose you won’t remember.” Curiosity burns in his chest. He wants to try and remember, but it hurts far too much. 

“Y’all sort things out,” McCree said, jabbing his thumb to the right. “I’m hitting the bar. With me, Jack?” 

Jack shook his head. “I really shouldn’t…” He trailed off. McCree wrapped an arm around him. 

“You need a break.” 

“I’ll look out after Junkrat,” Genji offered. “You go relax. We’ll just be exploring the festival.”

He hesitated. “And you’re sure this is okay…?” Genji pushed him. “I’m going! Geez!” Jack and McCree left on that note to a bar not far from where the ship had landed. 

As for Genji and Junkrat, they went just about everywhere. The festival had many things to keep them occupied, but Genji wasn’t an idiot. After a while, he was at his wits end of how bummed out Junkrat was. It’s hard for him to have a good time, it seems. 

Genji walked out of the restroom (He’s a robot; he doesn’t really need to pee. He was just fixed his hair. Even though it’s covered by a helmet of sorts..) to where Junkrat was waiting for him. He was perched on the ground next to a goldfish booth. He seemed bored looking at the fish. 

The sky above them was starting to darken as the sun fell. They sat in silence for a while. “Is there anything you want to do?” Genji asked for the fifth time. Junkrat just shrugged. “I give up!” He threw his hands up. “No matter what we do, you’re still in such a mood.” 

Junkrat picked his head out of his hands. A small grin tugged at his lips as he continued to ramble. “I feel like I’m with a baby. Do you need food or something?” Realization dawned in. “Oh. You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Junkrat sheepishly nodded. “I’ll see if Jack and McCree would like to go out to dinner. Wait here?” 

Genji made his way over to the bar. A man stood in front of the doors, black sunglasses covering his eyes. He flashed his I.D., his Overwatch one, and carried on inside. The man let him inside instantly. 

It didn’t take long at all for Genji to spot his co-workers. Jack was up on stage, a microphone in his hand. His face was a flushed red, and his shirt has somewhat vanished. McCree is with him, in a much more collected state. Jack swirled on stage, finishing the last lyrics to a song by Britney Spears before crashing into the floor. Boos echoed throughout the bar, and McCree dragged him away. 

“I was going to see if you wanted to go out for dinner,” Genji said, stifling a laugh. The drunk man leaned heavily on McCree. 

“He’s just a lightweight. I’m up for some food. Jackie? You up for some?” McCree teased, grinning. 

“Wheeeere’s Trashmouse?” Jack slurred. 

“Oh, I left him over by the picnic tables.” 

A troubled look washed over his face. “Alone?” His voice was heavy. 

“He’s a big boy,” Genji assured. “He can handle himself.” 

McCree held open the door as they all exited. “Let’s pick him up and head home. Tracer and D.va made dinner.” His nose scrunched when he mentioned D.va’s cooking. 

They made their way through the festival. McCree was carrying Jack, as passed out as he was. It wasn’t too far of a distance, as the town was relatively small. “Hey, Junkrat, we’re--” Genji called to the empty picnic tables. “Junkrat? Where’d he go?” 

McCree laid down Jack on one of the tables. “You sure you left him here?” McCree asked, looking around. The sun had completely set by now, and the lamps were the only things lightning the street. 

“Sillyyyyyy,” Jack slurred, giggling. “Just track his commmm.” McCree rolled his eyes and did as suggested. He waited patiently for the device to locate him. 

“Where is he?” Genji inquired after a moment of silence. He picked at his non-existing fingernails. 

“It says he’s here.” 

Jack lets out a laugh, then. “Obviously he isn’t.” Genji looked around, anxiety settling in. “Are we playing hide and seek?” He hiccuped. 

McCree squatted to the ground, picking a red watch off of the ground. “McCree?” Genji’s voice was quiet. 

“It’s… Junkrat’s communicator.” 

 

Roadhog showed him things he had never seen before. He’s shown him survival tips to just general hacks. Of all the things he taught him, fireworks were his favorite. 

Junkrat remembers well. The night of his first festival, his first birthday he enjoyed. He sat with Roadhog under the light of colorful explosions in the sky. 

It’s a memory he holds on to. Even now, in the cold. 

Welcome back, Junkrat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another tiny update lol
> 
> what is this???? actual progress??? not just pointless filler chapters????


	12. Ride of a Lifetime

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Realization came too late. 

 

Drool is running out of Tracer’s mouth, her eyes are drifted shut, and her head is slipping out of her palm. Across from her is D.va who is biting down on her lip, choosing her next move in their game of checkers. D.va swipes all the red ones off the board. “Ha! I win!” She grinned, that dirty cheater. 

Startled, Tracer was snapped back into reality. “Huh?” Reality came back to her; she settled down. “Right, right… Where’s everybody?”

“Dunno,” D.va replied, throwing the game pieces back into the box. “I’m still hungry, though.”

“Hana,” Tracer said, “You ate two bags of doritos.”

“I’m still hungry,” she whined. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have burnt dinner,” Tracer said, rolling her eyes. “Love, it’s okay. You might want to invest in lessons.”

D.va let out a punched noise. “Rude! I don’t need to know how to cook,” she protested. 

“What’s that thing you say? Get good?” 

D.va slammed her head against the table, defeated. 

The doors slid open making a loud sound, which was music to their ears. Both girls looked up sharply at the heroes coming in.

“Have you seen Junkrat?” McCree asked, carrying Jack in his arms. Genji is beside him, helping set him down on the couch. 

D.va and Tracer both shook heads. 

Jack Morrison always had a plan. No matter the situation, he could come up with something. This was no exception. He was just a little… drunk. 

“Jack, get sober,” McCree said, dropping him. He hurried over and sat down at a laptop, typing in a flurry. 

“The ones who took him in the first place…” Genji started suddenly onto something. “It has to be them. Right?” 

“We don’t know much about them,” McCree said. “Small gang, based in Australia. Civilized…”

Tracer slid a piece of paper out and scrambled for a pen. She scribbled down a circle shaped symbol. “As for a name, we don’t have--”

“Oh!” D.va perked up. “I know them.” 

“You do?” McCree asked in unison with Genji. 

D.va swallowed a dorito, wiping her hands off on a napkin. “Yeah, saw a file with that logo in Jack’s office.” She smirked. 

“When were you in my office…?” Jack asked, a hand to his head. 

“Might’ve been snooping through some stuff,” she snickered. “But, yeah, did see a file on it.” 

“Jack?” McCree asked, and he shook his head.

“Not much is in that file,” he replied, sadly. “The only data in there is what we found at the place where we picked up Junkrat.” 

Tracer slipped out her communicator out of her pocket, starting up a dial tone. It didn’t take long for the person on the other end to pick up. “Winston, can you pull up a file for me?” She nodded, pulling the device down with her hand over it. “I need a file number, please.”

Jack snorted. “You think I know it on the top of my head?” He paused. “One-four-seven-ten, category D.” 

“Got it,” Tracer said, repeating the code for her friend over the phone. She opened a tablet with the file pulled up. “Thanks, pal.” She ended the call. 

The file really didn’t have much at all on it. Some photos were attached, but they weren’t worth much to Tracer, who had already seen their old place in person. 

D.va was standing up from the table, throwing her crossbody purse over her shoulder. “I’m checking out the scene,” she said, tossing a piece of gum in her mouth. “See what I can find. Send a ship for me, a two-seater.” 

McCree shook his head. “Alone? They might still be around.” D.va shot him a look. 

“I’m off. Send me a ship.” She slid the doritos into her bag and walked off towards the door. 

“Hana,” Jack said, “Communicators on.” She sighed. 

“I hear you loud and clear, Dad,” she griped, sliding on the headset and slipping out the door. 

The night is cold against her skin, and she regrets not grabbing a coat. She’s not dressed up in her suit; she’s in her normal attire. Shorts, over the knee socks, converse, crop top - the typical outfit for girls her age. She has a gun with her, stuffed inside her purse. She looks more invisible in this outfit, anyways. 

She walked over to the picnic tables, investigating with what she could. There’s children around, and she can’t do much without getting suspicion. She jumps up and takes a seat on top of a table, looking out into the distance. 

There’s a loud sound all of a sudden, the sound of a ship taking off. Kids are tugging at the mother’s coat to see her team going off without her. Her headset buzzes. “D.va, ship’s on its way. Any specific reason why you’re hoarding a two seater? I know you like your space, but…” 

“Where’s Junkrat going to sit?” She asked, dumbfounded. She takes notice of tire tracks a few feet away from her. She crouches down, dragging a finger through the red dirt. A struggle went down here. “Did anyone tell Lucio?”

“No, not yet--”

“He hasn’t been gone long. Not enough time for a missing person report,” Tracer explained. 

D.va didn’t say anything after that. She stuffed a sample of the blood-dirt mixture into a tube. She slipped the tube into her purse before standing up off the ground. 

She glanced at her watch, a little notification popped up that her ship had arrived. Her assistant, a more timid girl, still a nerd like herself, knew her well. When D.va had to be sent something while she was on the field, whether it be her mecha or snacks, or, in this case, a ship. 

It’s a smaller ship, one that’s personalized to her, sprayed pink with blue accents. She boards it, placing the tube of blood in a case. The ship is more modernized, more cramped. She makes her way towards the center. She grinned, making way towards a baby pink motorcycle. She hops on it, opens the back door, and drives off. 

She drives past the tire marks again, pausing a second to look off in what direction to go in. She pops her bubblegum before speeding off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is how i view d.va...
> 
> so uh i've been busy... wrote a research paper, way too many pages on H. H. Holmes, America''s first serial killer, gave my crush his present (then he asked me out on vday), wrote this, wrote another story that soon will be posted on here! I've been pretty busy.... oh, and, i'm dying of bronchitis and a sinus infection so that's nice...


	13. Remember me

Junkrat’s hands felt rough and dry against his face as he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. His blonde hair was a shaggy mess, hanging down in front of his eyes. Patches of dirt covered him, as well as splashes of a crimson red shade of blood. 

His eyes felt heavy, and he struggled to stay awake. He’s spent a while like this, slipping in and out of consciousness. The needle in his arm was giving him something weird, some strange effect on his body and mind. 

He’d rather pick the jail cell over this. White walls, white bed, white and red all over. All the blood can’t be his, he knows, because he’d be dead by that point. The red on his sleeves is his - he rubbed his mouth off on them, blood he had coughed up. As for the stains on his clothes, he has no clue. 

“Shh,” a whispering hush, “Sleep well, my darling…” 

Junkrat’s back is pressed against a door now, and he’s nervously listening in. He’s not imposing, after all, he was invited. He couldn’t bring himself to step inside. 

“You look suspicious,” Jack stated, raising his eyebrow. “More than usual.” He jabbed a thumb to a girl cowering behind him. Jack stepped forward, the girl following close behind. He knocked on the door. 

“Come in!” Jack opened the door, stepping back so the girl could enter. Jack tilted his head, a gesture for Jamison to come closer. He peeked inside. 

D.va, Genji, and Lucio were seated inside a hot pink room. The lights were dim, aside from a bright blue light coming from a console in the room. D.va and Lucio were on the floor, controllers in hand. Genji had headphones on. 

“In the middle of a match,” D.va said, talking through the pocky in her mouth. 

“Pardon me, ma’am,” the assistant stuttered, “I was just worried…” She avoided Junkrat’s gaze. 

The game ended, Lucio let out a howl of defeat, and D.va stood up from the floor. She waltzed over to the newcomers. “Oh!” she giggled. “Trashmouse, did you spook my dear Lilliana?” A rosy pink blush dusted over her cheeks. 

“I was not spooked; I assure you!” she huffed, crossing her arms. “I thought he was a Peeking Tom. That’s all. Since that’s not the case, I’ll just be on my way--” 

“Lily,” she sang, “You know I’m just teasing you.” Hana held out her box of candy. “Want one?” 

Junkrat hesitantly accepted one. “Don’t think I forgot about you, old man!” D.va chirped, handing him a folder. “That’s what you were here for, right?” 

Lucio popped open a can of Coke. “Hana, that was due a month ago,” he observed, gulping down the can. 

“Precisely,” Jack agreed, shaking his head. “You kids have fun.” 

“Bye, Dad!” Lucio waved, smiling. Junkrat felt embarrassed, sneaking a peek at Jack. He could’ve been seeing things, but he thought he saw a tiny grin tugging at his mouth. 

“Wanna play?” D.va offered, holding a white controller out to Junkrat. “Me or Lucio? I’ll let you pick.”

Junkrat was taken back. “W-What?” 

“She’s challenging you to a duel,” Genji called, taking off his headphones. 

“A duel?” Junkrat echoed, stepping back. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Doofus!” D.va bonked his head. “In Call of Duty,” she said in a “duh” voice. “You know what Call of Duty is, right?”

Junkrat tilted his head. “It’s a video game? I’ve never played one--”

“WHAT?” D.va exclaimed. “No way! Dude!” She grabbed his hand, and Junkrat’s first instinct was to attack. She threw him down on the bean bag next to Lucio. She pulled out a crate full of cases. “Which game to start with? If you’ve never played, you’re going to start now.” 

Junkrat spent the whole night like this. He stayed up late with the three teenagers. Although, Genji didn’t say much. He listened to his music most of the time, but occasionally he’d offer something to say about the gamers. They played every single game D.va had in her collection. 

Junkrat’s favorites were the multiplayer ones. His least favorite had to have been the horror ones. 

~

When he wakes up from the dreams is when he feels the worst. He gets caught up in the homely feeling, and then he’s thrown into this mess. 

He’s in a different room now. He’s tucked under red velvet sheets, warm, suffocating. A chain is fastened to a thick collar around his neck. He’s in a gray room with barely any furniture. The only window is boarded up. The vase full of flowers is trapped inside a clear box with a lock keeping it shut. 

He could feel the eyes on him. He crumbled. “Jack…!” He called out. “Roadhog?” 

There’s the sound of a creaky door, and Junkrat throws himself under the blankets.

A chuckle. “Junkrat, I know you’re there,” a voice sings. “No use in hiding from me, baby.” The mattress to his right sinks down, an indicator that an unwanted guest has sat down. He doesn’t come out. 

“I bet you’re scared,” the voice continued, bringing a hand to rub him through the sheets. “Are you scared of me, Jamison?” 

No response. He bites down on his lip to cover his sobs. 

“You’re rather rude. I came all this way to bring you back--” He tensed, and the kidnapper noticed. “Oh? You didn’t think it’d be me.”

Junkrat lowered the blankets at this, eyes adjusting to the bright light. The first thing he met was a mask, a gas mask, similar to one Roadhog wore. He trembled. “I was careful of you never to see me,” he said, bringing a hand to his cheek. Junkrat shrinks away. “I came when you were asleep. I had my assistants take care of you. And you know how that went.”

He sighed. “This time is different. It’s just you and me here. No one else to cause me unwanted attention,” he said in a consoling voice, but it did the opposite to Junkrat. “Those overwatch fools took you from me. I won’t let them do that again.” A hand scratched at Junkrat’s head, throwing the blond hair around. “I thought after I got Roadhog out of the picture you’d be all mine, but--”

A slap across his cheek. Junkrat holds his hand out, trembling. The man doesn’t look at him, or at least, his head is pointed in the other direction. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking or looking at, in that matter, when he wears the mask. He could read Mako’s body signals well, but this was a stranger before him. 

“I thought you would’ve been over by that by now,” the man said, after a while. “Apparently not. Oh well, soon enough, you’ll forget about him and the other Overwatch punks. Soon, all you will know is me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and, so, we are nearing our end!!! heavy sigh... 
> 
> also check out my other story if you want (you totally should it's real good)
> 
> this story is close to its end... 
> 
> until the next time


	14. Look at Her, The Moon

Junkrat sat up in a swirl of white blankets in the early hours of the night. With a heavy sigh, he stared at the faint moonlight through boarded windows. 

Jack has been in his office for hours, sorting through files for anything even remotely related to where Junkrat could have been taken. It’s not until Mercy says something does he realize it’s almost two. 

“It’s become quiet,” Mercy said. She let herself in. A bright yellow mug rested in her hands. She placed it on the desk. “I’ve gotten use to the noise, all the ruckus he made.” 

“I have too,” he said, and his voice is hoarse. “Don’t make that face.” 

She scrunched her nose. “What?” Defensively. 

“We didn’t lose him,” he said. “He’s still out there.” 

“I know. I never said he wasn’t.” 

“Your face,” he started, teeth gritted. “You make that face when one of us dies. You always do. Angela…” 

“Jack, I--” 

The doors burst open to reveal a panting McCree. “Australia,” he breathed out, letting out long shaky breaths. “He’s there… Junkrat.” 

“What?” The first spirals of hope in a week set off. “How?” 

“He was spotted,” he said in a rushed breath. He dug a tablet out of his bag with a grainy video playing. “Or, at least, his leg was.” It’s his peg in the video. 

A strange, unknown person had the brightly sprayed orange peg in his hands. The peg had the end cut off, a black spread a sign it had been blown off. The man held it up to show to the woman sat behind the booth. “Can you fix it?” he asked, a gruff voice. 

The girl was sucking on a blue dum dum pop. “Depends,” she replied. “How much are you willin’ to pay?” 

The conversation ended with the man handing her the peg and walking away, as if it was as simple as that. Jack, Mercy, and McCree were dead silent until the video ended. 

“Do we know where that is?” Jack asked, standing up. He knocked his chair to the floor. Mercy jumped. 

“No,” McCree answered, “I had a hunch it’d be Australia, so I called a couple of the stations down there to ask if they had seen anything. I got this in return.” 

Jack had already pulled himself up a carrier. He had a team loaded on it less than half an hour later. He was just about to step on when a yell stops him. 

“Wait!” Lucio yelled, speeding over on his rollerblades. Jack kept on walking. “Sir, please!” 

“We got the first lead on where Junkrat might be,” he said. “What is so important?” 

“D.va,” he sputtered. “She’s gone.” 

Jack snorted. “As always,” he waved. “She’s a rebellious teenager. It doesn’t surprise me.”

“But, Sir--”

“Return to your quarters, Lucio.” Jack didn’t give him time to continue before he walked inside to join the rest of his team. 

Lucio sunk to his knees as the carrier took off. 

~  
Meanwhile, a couple hours before Lucio found himself a victim of anxiety.

D.va got ahead of herself. She couldn’t focus on anything aside from finding Junkrat. It’s been days since she’s been home. 

She’s in a small town in Australia, navigating herself through the busy streets when her phone rings. Lucio is calling for the sixth time today. It’s not even noon yet. 

“Isn’t it the middle of the night for you?” she asked, stepping aside so she could hear him better. 

“I can’t sleep,” he whined. “When are you coming back?” 

“When we find Junkrat,” she replied in a hushed tone, drawing some suspicion from a nearby worker. “I’m so close.” 

“We can help!” he insisted. “Just tell me where you are, and we can come and help.” 

She sighed. “You know as much as I do that I can’t do that.” 

She strolled down the street, eyeing the booths. “One of these,” she muttered under her breath. “Aha!” She stopped in front of a mechanic booth. She pressed the “end call” button before slipping her phone into her bag. “Excuse me,” she said, slipping out a photo in exchange for her phone. “Have you seen this man?” 

A girl with short, black hair blew a loud “pop” in D.va’s face with her blue bubblegum. She leaned forward to examine the picture. “No,” she said. D.va couldn’t detect anything in her voice. 

“Are you sure?” D.va asked. She leaned in close. “Cut the BS.” 

“Ever heard of customer-patient confidentiality?” She tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. 

D.va grinned dryly, sliding in a pack of bubblegum. She flashed a fake smile, accepting the gum. “Come in,” she said. “Not safe to talk out here.” D.va followed her inside the small booth, which turned out to be a bit bigger than she had expected. It was cramped, but there was a downstairs. They sat down at a table. “What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing? Getting yourself mixed up in all this…?” She sat down a cup of coffee. Poor taste for the middle of the afternoon. “A boyfriend?”

“A friend,” she corrected. “He’s been kidnapped.” 

The girl hummed, taking in the information. “I haven’t seen him,” she said, sending flames of anger within D.va. “But,” she stopped, “I’ve seen his leg.” She walked over to a desk with tools scattered all over the place. She picked up a bright orange peg. 

“That’s his,” she breathed. “How’d you get it?” 

“A customer wanted me to fix it for him,” she answered. 

D.va crossed her arms. “I know your type,” in a sultry voice, “So why are you helping me?”

She smiled. “You’re cute,” she replied. “And I do have morals. I thought something was up with my customer with the way he carried himself. I recognized the symbol on his jacket. I’d be happy to assist you in getting back your friend. Gives me a chance to get some revenge myself.” 

“I work alone,” she said, and it was almost a lie. 

“Trust me. You’ll want some back up,” she offered. “He’ll be here tonight to retrieve the leg. We can confront him then.” 

“And for the mean time?” D.va flirted, resting her head on her hands. 

“You can spend a little time with lil’ ol me.” 

Later on, after a few games of mario kart and some spicy fun times, D.va was perched around the corner. The girl gave her a nod, going to greet the stranger at the door. 

“Is it done?” A gruff voice. She nodded, leaving to retrieve the peg. She wrapped it up,a decoy. The man went to take a peek, D.va taking the chance to come up behind him and subdue him. 

She slid her camera out to take a photo of his face, his jacket, his gang symbols, and whatever else she found useful. “He left motorcycle tracks,” the woman, D.va had come to learn as Roxie, said. “I have a bike.” 

“What’re we waiting for?” 

They walked out of the booth together in the starry night. Roxie went to go bring out her motorbike. D.va took a chance to rest, taking a seat on a bench. After a couple minutes, she went to go see what was keeping her. 

“Roxie?” she called out. She walked into the back to find a collapsed body on the ground. “Roxie!” Before she could bend down to help, she felt a sharp pain in her neck. 

The sight of Roxie, in all of her beauty, covered in blood stains, was replaced with the black of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im just gonna apologize rn for roxie... i really hate putting ocs in here but i have a thing for pretty girls w/ motorcycles
> 
> this story is almost over


	15. All's Well that Ends Well

Lucio, eyes wide, pulled away from his phone. A couple hours ago, she had mumbled a goodbye, following rustling. However, the phone call with D.va hadn’t been canceled. 

He’d laughed at first. Then, he was embarrassed over the sounds of D.va and a girl named “Roxie” and a couple of other nicknames Hana had called her by. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hang up. She was all alone out there, and he was sick with worry. He stayed on. 

Then, there were gunshots. D.va had screamed “Roxie” with following silence. 

Lucio had taken off after Jack, but he was already gone. 

“But I know where she is…” he said, but it was already too late. “Diddly darn,” he cursed, taking off on his rollerblades. “Is anyone here?” 

The Overwatch facility was vacant. Okay. Two choices here. He could wait for someone to come back, or, and he’s going out on a limb here, he could go alone. 

D.va does it all the time. Whether she’s solo or on a team, she has her missions handled.

Lucio’s a hero, too. There’s no sign of anyone coming back soon. 

He calls Jack, and it goes straight to voicemail. “Um, Sir, I just wanted to tell you D.va was kidnapped by the same people as Junkrat. I have the coordinates, and I am headed there now. I’ll, uh, see you later. Bye.” 

With a heavy breath, he climbs aboard a ship and flies to Australia alone. 

~

Junkrat doesn’t do much these days. He’ll climb out of bed to do pushups and some sit ups. It’s as much activity he can get these days. 

“I can take you out,” he offered one day, running his fingers through his hair. Junkrat shivered in the touch. “Like your Roadhog. Was he nice to you like this? Like I am?” 

Junkrat shyed away from him. “You’d have to promise to be a good boy. Can you do that?” Silence. “You’re just not ready yet. You will be. Soon, all you’ll think about is me.”

“Say my name,” he ordered. “Just once. In that pretty little voice of yours.” 

Junkrat grit his teeth. He struck his hand across Noah’s face. 

He spat. “Such a beautiful body,” he said, like a memoir. “It’s a waste to use it to harm me. You won’t have it for much longer.” 

Junkrat’s eyes widened. “Oh?” he prompted. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You misuse your body to hurt me, even yourself. I’ll cut off all your limbs until you’re unable to run away from me.” 

The image of Roadhog with his limbs severed off flashed. “You thought of him again, didn’t you?” 

“I’ll be back tonight,” he promised. “Eat well. You’ll need it for the amputation.” 

Junkrat spent the night beating against the wall until his hands went bloody. When the morning came, the servant appeared to take away his dinner tray. Not a bite was taken. He left painkillers with the breakfast.

~

D.va’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of a creaky door. She charged up in a bed to find her feet bound to a bed. “Hello,” Noah greeted at the door. “You’re the one who tried to hurt Baby.”

“What?” she sputtered around a tie in her mouth. Noan slipped his fingers under it and tugged it down. “Where’s Junkrat? And Roxie?” 

“Shh,” he hushed. “Don’t you worry about them. My poor Jamison is going through a hard time, and he doesn’t need you as a problem. He’s losing his arm tonight. His surgery is to go uninterrupted.” 

She was at a loss for words. He continued, “You were a threat to his safety.” 

“You’re the one about to take off his arm! He already lost a leg! Please--” she begged, but Noah slipped the tie back into her mouth. 

~

“I have no clue where he could be,” Jack sighed, resting his head against the desk. 

“We took off on a hunch,” Mercy said. “I’ll follow you in whatever you choose to do. You’ve become blinded… Lucio’s been calling you for ages now.” 

“What about Junkrat?” he exclaimed, bringing his fist down to the table. Mei let out a startled screech with the following drop of her glass of water. 

“Don’t lose sight of others,” she said. “Call him.” 

Jack did, and there was no response. He listened to the voicemail he left. 

“I know where she is,” Lucio had said. “I’m going in.” 

Panic rose in his chest. 

This is the aftermath of what he’s done. 

D.va is gone. Junkrat, too. And, now, Lucio…

Then, music started playing. He scrambled for his phone. “Lucio?”

Lucio rode on his own in a green sports car. He parked a little ways off from the beacon. The signal had cut off, but Lucio was able to track down D.va’s phone. He was moving on his rollerskates now, as sneakily as he could. He was pressed up against a tree when he saw the missed calls.

“Jack?” he exclaimed in a hushed tone. 

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed. “Lucio, we’re on our way! Fall back.” 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I can’t. I need to find them. Join up with us. By the time you get here, I’ll have found them.” 

“Lucio--” He was cut off. 

He slid his phone into his pocket. 

The building was small. He had been expecting a huge mansion for a gang, but only three or four cars were parked outside. It looked more like an abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere. He crawled in through a window on the first floor. 

A girl drowning in an oversized lab coat ran through. “Hurry!” she said to the man next to her. “We need all hands on deck.” 

“I had to feed the girls,” he replied, following after her. She pushed a metal cart. “The rat can wait.”

“Not if he’s dead! Come on!” 

A hacksaw rested on the metal cart. Lucio gulped. He made his way down the stairs, stopping in what looked like some bedrooms. Most were empty. 

He burst open the door to find two girls. One, a beautiful leather-clothed woman sat on the floor, her back against the wall. Another chained to the bed. “D.va!” he yelped, jumping up on the bed. He hurried to pick at the bounds. 

“L-Lucio?” she stammered, blood slipping out of her mouth. “Junkrat…! Go to him. He’s going to lose his arm.” 

He undid the bounds, helping her get up. “Jack is on his way,” Lucio reassured her. “Not many people are here. We can take them.” He slipped a blaster into her hands. “Come on.”

“Wait,” she paused, crouching down to the girl. She pressed her fingers against her throat. No pulse. She choked a sob. “Thank you, Roxie.” She pressed a kiss to her cheeks before taking off after Lucio out the door. 

“Noah’s insane,” D.va explained. “Good news is he’s here pretty much alone. Aside from a few doctors.” 

They continued running until Lucio stopped them. “In here,” he pointed. The metal cart, empty, was parked outside. 

He steps inside. 

Junkrat is pressed against a tablet, a sock pushed into his mouth. The girl from earlier is covered in blood, a hacksaw in hands. “It won’t cut through!” 

“Get away from him!” D.va yelled. She shot her blaster at the doctors, not feeling any sign of guilt for the people who killed Roxie and did Junkrat in like this. 

Lucio blasted a man into the wall, a bigger man. He had a pistol in hand. “Get away from my baby.” 

“He’s not yours,” Lucio said. His watch beeped at him. “They’re here.” D.va nodded, jumping over an obstacle. She made her way up to Noah, who had his pistol pointed at Lucio. 

“Lucio, take him to Jack!”

“But--” 

“Now! Go!”

Lucio scooped him up in his arms, skating through the halls. He didn’t look behind him at the sound of gunshots. “L...Lu--” Junkrat started, tears leaking out of his eyes. “L-L..Luc--”

“Shh,” he hushed. “It’s okay.” 

Junkrat still had his arm, but deep cuts of red signaled the chance of infection. “I have you. I won’t let them take you again.” 

Jack greeted them, sprinting out of the ship. “Mercy!”

“We were too late,” Lucio said. “They were trying to cut it off.” 

“We were,” Noah called, arriving on the scene. Scared eyes looked up to find D.va being held against Noah. “until you ruined everything! Look what you’ve done to my baby. My poor, poor Jamison…”

Widowmaker stepped out, her sniper rifle held up. 

“You wouldn’t dare risk a shot to her.” 

Mercy took Junkrat in to finish the Amputation. Mei guarded the door. 

“Don’t,” Jack said to Widowmaker, who fully intended to take the shot. He wasn’t worried about her missing. “He’s not worth a bullet.” 

He walked towards him, and Noah tightened his grip. “I’ll do it,” he promised. “I will! I swear! Get any closer, and I will.” 

“You won’t,” Jack said in all his glory. “I know you won’t.” Jack pulled out his gun and pressed it to Noah’s temple. “Let her go.” He did, letting D.va drop to the floor. She climbed to her feet. “Good.” He lowered his gun. “Let’s leave him here.”

Widowmaker raised her eyebrow. “He’ll be eaten by the dogs.” 

Noah yelled in protest, but his cries fell on deaf ears. They left him there, kneecaps busted in.

The ship was filled with cries. This wasn’t Mercy’s first amputation. Still, without proper equipment, it was difficult to keep him awake. He collapsed early on. 

When he awoke, he was surrounded by his friends. A flesh arm and leg was all he had left. He dragged his flesh hand over the cold metal. 

“I’m so happy!” D.va and Lucio engulfed him in a hug. Genji sat at his bedside, too awkward to give him a hug. 

“Are those tears, I see?” Junkrat joked, pointing at Jack. 

“What? No way,” he dismissed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

Junkrat looked around the room at his family and let tears of joy stream down his face. 

Roadhog isn’t gone. He may have died that night, but he never left. He remembered him to this day, every night and every morning. 

He wasn’t ever alone. “He fought for me to live,” Junkrat cried. “And I’ve been so reckless. I’m so sorry…” 

“I’ll protect it, like he did,” he promised. “I know he would have liked it here. He would have liked you.” 

He lived, then, just like Roadhog had always wanted for him. He worked hard, even saved some lives. He protected the ones he loved. 

Junkrat found a family. It started with Roadhog, and it’s never ended. 

Overwatch held a hand to Junkrat, gave everything he ever wanted and needed: a family full of love and care. And he pushed it away, he bit the hand that fed him. 

The hand didn’t leave. No matter how rude or troublesome he was, Overwatch never withdrew. 

In them, he found home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY DONE!!!! 
> 
> if u want a sequel pls leave a comment down below! i might do some over stuff in this au... if anyone wants that
> 
> maybe check out my other stuff????? 
> 
> bye for now! thanks for readimg


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